Prompts of Turnadette
by RipperShipper
Summary: 50 one-shots of Turnadette based on a list of tumblr OTP prompts! Stories will range from K-T, possibly with the occasional M. Enjoy!
1. We're Not Just Friends

**Prompts of Turnadette**

Summary: OTP Prompt 1/50: "We're not just friends, and you bloody know it" (Original prompt is "We're not just friends, and you fucking know it", but it's Turnadette, so gotta keep it realistic. :D)

A/N: These are going to be a series of one shots based off a list of 50 general OTP prompts by ships4you via tumblr. Aka, work has hit a new level of boring and I need something to do and writing looks more productive than day dreaming about CtM? Prompts will range from K-T, so I'm labeling the entire story as T. If I write anything M, I will announce it at the beginning of the chapter!

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

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The misty English countryside whipped past as Dr. Turner drove Sister Bernadette to her temporary respite at the Sanatorium. Under other circumstances, the setting might have been romantic, but neither of the silent passengers so much as glanced at the scenery. Sister Bernadette passed the time desperately trying to quiet the jumble of thoughts and worries in her head as she stared at her lap. Dr. Turner stared straight ahead at the road, willing his eyes not to stray to the distraught woman beside him, although his self control kept wavering and he found himself sneaking several glances and wishing he could reach out to grab her hand in comfort.

It wasn't supposed to be like this. None of it was. HIs wife wasn't supposed to die. He wasn't supposed to fall in love with a nun. Said nun was definitely not supposed to get tuberculosis and be taken away from him. Not that he was supposed to be thinking along those lines anyway. Things had been tense between them since he foolishly kissed her hand ' _and really, what did you think was going to happen, Turner?',_ but they'd been borderline unbearable since he'd examined her. She'd refused to look him in the eye the entire time, which honestly was for the best since he was pretty sure he'd stopped breathing at the sight of her collarbone and he wasn't sure he would've been able to keep from kissing her if she'd looked at him.

Sister Julienne would definitely not have approved of that.

Now though...now he somewhat regretted not kissing her senseless during her examination...or in the clinic kitchen...or in plain view after they'd shared a cigarette. He'd thrown away so many opportunities and now, despite the fact that he had a great deal of faith in the triple treatment, he might never see her again. If only he could be convinced that she didn't return a single one of his feelings. It would be much easier to ignore his inappropriate affections if he didn't see them mirrored every time she sighed at him.

As if to torture him further, Sister Bernadette let out a soft sigh as she began to fidget her fingers.

"Are you alright?" He asked somewhat dumbly. Of course she wasn't alright, but what else was he supposed to say? Everything seemed off-limits between them lately.

"I'll be fine." she muttered. He might have imagined the incredulity in her voice, but he couldn't be sure.

"Good. That's good." He fumbled. Lord help him.

"You didn't have to drive me, you know." She spoke without looking up from her hands. "Fred or Sister Evangelina could've taken me, or I could have taken the bus."

"Absolutely not, you were not about to travel 30 miles on public transit with Tuberculosis." It came out more emphatic than he might've intended, but at least it got her attention.

"I would have been fine, Dr. Turner." She insisted, not without a twinge of the bite he knew she hid behind her quiet demeanor.

"You're sick. You deserve to have someone look after you." He was trying desperately not to let his feelings slip through his words, but he felt he was failing.

"Isn't that why I'm going to the Sanitorium? So people can look after me." She tactfully avoided his implication.

"Yes." He deflated. "Yes, of course."

The ride continued in silence and what felt like years later, Dr. Turner pulled the green MG into the driveway of the Sanitorium. He looked over hopefully at the women he hadn't meant to fall in love with, but she was still staring determinedly at her ever-fidgeting hands.

He sighed and opened his side of the car, but then instead of going around to open her door, he sat back down and closed the door. Sister Bernadette looked up in confusion.

"Is something wrong, Doctor?" She asked.

His breathing was faster than usual and she hated herself for noticing how it made his neck flush. Why couldn't he just let her out of the car? Why couldn't he feel how awful it was for them to be trapped together when neither of them could say the words they wanted to say?

"The triple treatment is very effective." He whispered.

"Yes." She spoke softly. "You told me."

"It's very effective, but it's not foolproof." He sighed.

Her face went white. Of course she knew that, but why on earth would he remind her? Why would he want her to think about dying?

"Why would you say that?" She whimpered. "You're a doctor, why would you-"

"Because I can't let you walk in there knowing you might not walk out again." He finally exclaimed. "I'm so sorry Sister, but I can't."

"I'm sorry too, Dr. Turner," she worked to keep her voice level, "but I have to go."

His heart dropped. He'd said too much and now he might not only never see again, but she would walk away disgusted with him.

"I know." He admitted.

With a final sigh, he got out of the car and gently helped her out while trying not to notice how she turned away as he held her arm. He sadly offered her suitcase out to her waiting hand.

"Would you like me to walk you in?" He asked.

"No." She lied. "I'll manage from here." She paused for a moment. "I do thank you, Dr. Turner." She threw as many of her feelings into her words as she could and prayed that he would understand. "I thank you so much for your friendship."

She turned and began to walk towards the domineering building, but he stopped her. Her parting comment pushed him over the edge and consequences be damned, she was going to know everything.

"Sister Bernadette." He turned her around to face him. "We're not just friends, and you bloody well know it."

"Dr. Turner-"

He silenced her with a chaste, but clear kiss that left no doubt in her mind.

"Please get better." He pleaded. Not wanting to force her to respond to his hideously irresponsible actions, he quickly got back into the car and drove away.

For the first time in weeks, Sister Bernadette smiled. Through the fog and haze of her thoughts and illness, one thing was finally clear. The future Mrs. Turner was going to get better.

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One down, 49 to go! Bring it on, work boredom. :D I hope you enjoy.


	2. I Can Take Care of Myself

**Summary:** Prompt 2 of 50: "Despite what you think, I am completely capable of taking care of myself" Takes place early Season 6.

 **A/N:** Thank you for the kind responses to prompt 1! I'm really excited to write this whole thing and your support means a lot!

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 **Prompts of Turnadette: 2/50**

They set up the clinic in record time that day. Sister Julienne and Shelagh had practically skipped into the hall and their infectious good moods livened the group and hurried along the normally tedious process of setting up chairs, curtains, and equipment. Neither of the women was willing to say exactly what it was that was making them beam throughout the room, but privately, they'd taken a moment so Shelagh could tell her essentially adoptive-mother about telling Patrick the news.

"It was so wonderful, Sister." Shelagh gushed. "Back before we found out my diagnosis, I thought I might be pregnant, but I didn't want to tell him until I was sure so I could see his face. Unfortunately he had to sign off on the pregnancy test." They shared a laugh. "I'd given up hope I would ever be able to tell him we were expecting."

"And was it everything you hoped for?" Asked Sister Julienne.

"I haven't seen him that happy in a long time," said Shelagh, "it's a miracle, for both of us."

Sister Julienne felt tears starting for what must have been the twentieth time in the past 48 hours. She couldn't imagine what she was going to be like when the child was born.

"I'm so very, very happy for you both, my dear." She hugged her former Sister tightly and found it harder than ever to let go. She wasn't sure if she'd ever be able to let Shelagh go completely.

Unfortunately, she would have to at least end their cuddle as Nurse Franklin entered the kitchen.

"If you two are quite done celebrating whatever juicy secret we're not allowed to know, we're about to open the doors." Trixie teased.

Both women sent a half-hearted glare at their colleague, but ultimately laughed and walked happily back into the main room to prepare for the weekly stampede.

"Mrs. Turner." Nurse Crane called to Shelagh as they walked in.

"Yes, Nurse Crane?" she responded, expecting any number of well-meant complaints.

"I was wondering if the Doctor was planning on joining us today before we opened the doors."

Shelagh grinned at the comment that normally would've made her roll her eyes and bite her tongue. Nothing was going to cloud her glorious mood, and, while running late was unfortunately a habit of her husband's, in this case, she knew exactly where he was.

"He's running a bit behind today, Nurse Crane," she smirked at everyone's raised eyebrow at the work 'today', "but he'll be along in an hour or so."

"Oh, does he have anywhere special to be?" Trixie attempted to ask nonchalantly.

"You're not getting the secret out of me, Nurse Franklin." Shelagh laughed.

"Oh, fine." Trixie huffed. "I'll find out one way or another." She called out on her way to the doors.

Shelagh glanced down at her still-flat stomach.

 _'Yes I suppose you will.'_ She thought sweetly to herself.

* * *

An hour later saw every one of the nurses and Sisters sweating and on their last leg of patience. It seemed like every mother and baby in Poplar chose that Tuesday to be an indignant combination of irritable and ailing, and while normally Shelagh could handle it, the smell of the clinic was getting to her and all she wanted to do was go home and curl up with a cup of horlicks and Patrick's robe. Sister Julienne had tried to convince her that they could manage if she needed to sit down, but she'd refused. She'd nursed well enough through the flu and the early breathlessness of TB, there was no reason she couldn't nurse through pregnancy; although her body was certainly trying to convince her otherwise.

"Mrs. Turner," Barbara asked softly, "are you sure you shouldn't sit down. You're looking awfully pale."

"No, I'm fine, thank you Nurse Gilbert." Shelagh insisted as she precariously balanced a pile of nappies nearly as tall as herself. "Just a wee bit tired, that's all."

"I'm so sorry, I'm late!" Dr. Turner panted as he ran into the clinic nearly 30 minutes later than Shelagh had predicted. "Appointment kept me rather longer than expected. What on earth?"

"As you can see, we're a bit busy at the moment, Dr. Turner." Nurse Crane chided. "If you could be so kind, we have ten ladies waiting just over there that need to be looked over by you once you've recovered from your leisurely afternoon."

The absolute chaos of the clinic was the only thing keeping Patrick from snapping back at Phyllis - well, that and his newly found knowledge that he was to be a father again. He'd spent the morning arranging locums for several upcoming dates. Probably more dates than he'd originally told his wife about, but he couldn't help it. They never thought this would happen and with her being an elderly primigravida (not that he would ever say that to her face), he was more than concerned for her health for the next seven months.

Speaking of which…

"Excuse me, Sister Julienne," Patrick stopped the rushing nun, "is Shelagh here?"

Sister Julienne glanced around the room and was briefly as confused as to Shelagh's whereabouts as her husband until a small yelp and a cloud of falling nappies revealed the struggling nurse.

"Shelagh!" Patrick shouted as he ran to his wife, not even remotely caring that they were in front of nearly the entirety of Poplar.

Shelagh knelt on the floor, fighting back tears and nausea as she tried to collect the scattered nappies. This day was just not panning out the way it started. Patrick quickly knelt down beside her and a hand on her shoulder got her to look up from her task. Her eyes shined with unshed tears and her clammy pallor did nothing for his nerves. Concern immediately took an unfortunate turn to anger.

"What on earth do you think you're doing?" He harshly whispered.

"I'm doing my job." she bit back defensively.

"Doing your job doesn't mean killing yourself. You promised you were going to take it easier."

By now, most of the room was watching the hushed, but tense exchange.

"Patrick, not here." Shelagh insisted.

Patrick looked up and realized everyone was staring at them. With an irritated sigh, he helped his wife off the floor, leaving the nappies behind, and quickly walked them both to the kitchen. They both knew it was no guarantee of privacy, but it was the best they could do for the moment and it was clear that this conversation wasn't going to wait.

"Was that entirely necessary?" She clipped as he nearly forced her into a chair. "It's just a clinic day."

"It's an extreme clinic day, and even if it weren't, you are in no position to be working this hard." He argued.

"I'm not dying, _Doctor_ ," she snipped, "I would think you would know that."

"Shelagh, please," he pleaded, "I'm not asking you to confine yourself to bed rest. I promised you that last night, but _you_ said you were just as nervous as me and that you would promise not to push yourself."

"Despite what you think, I am completely capable of taking care of myself." She nearly yelled.

"I do think you're completely capable of taking care of yourself," he tried, "but I know you, and you can't help but put patients before your own well-being."

"Oh well, that's the pot calling the kettle black."

"With, all due respect, you are-" he warned.

"Patrick James Turner, if the words 'elderly primagravida' come out of your mouth, you'll be sleeping outside."

"Shelagh." He stopped her.

The tone in his voice hit her hard and the tears that had been threatening to fall finally escaped.

"Oh sweetheart, I'm so sorry." He apologized as he knelt to hold her. "I didn't mean to upset you, I just, I couldn't bear it if anything happened to you or our little bean."

She looked up in confusion.

"Little bean?"

"Well if our dates are correct, baby is about the size of a kidney bean right now." He blushingly explained.

Shelagh smiled. Always the doctor.

"Only about 1 gram and 1.6 cm long." She added.

He beamed.

"That's my girl." A slight frown graced his face. "Shelagh, are you sure you're alright. You really do look pale."

Shelagh looked down slightly ashamed.

"I should've taken a rest," she admitted, "I'm sorry."

"You're resting now and that's what's important. Let me get you some tea and then I'd like one of the nurses to look you over, if that's alright."

"Of course." She smiled. It definitely wasn't the last spat of her pregnancy, but she knew they would handle everything in stride.

"Let me just grab one of them." Patrick stood to leave the kitchen.

"I don't think you'll have to look very hard, dear." She laughed.

He turned around and found himself face to face with the staff of Nonnatus looking in through the window between the kitchen and the main hall; their faces bright with excitement and concern. They at least had the decency to look somewhat sheepish at being caught.

"Can I take a guess at the secret?" Trixie asked shrewdly.

Shelagh and Patrick looked at each other and smiled.

"Yes, Nurse Franklin, everyone, we're expecting a baby." Shelagh announced through now-happy tears.

Squeals of excitement burst through the chaotic cloud of the clinic as the nurses and Sisters rushed into the kitchen to congratulate the couple while Sister Julienne looked on, shaking her head. While everyone crowded Shelagh and embraced the task of checking her over and convincing her to go home for the day, Sister Julienne walked over to the overwhelmed father.

"Little bean?" She asked teasingly.

"Just for this week." He replied with a knowing smile. "Next week, it'll be little grape."

"Patrick, stop comparing our baby to food, you're worse that Timothy." Shelagh admonished from the clump of nurses around her.

Sister Julienne laughed.

"How long are you going to keep it up?" She asked conspiratorially.

"As long as she lets me, although, she might kill me before I make it to watermelon." He smirked.

"Patrick!"

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The food comparisons are taken from a book that gives you a new food the size of your baby every week! This one was a lot of fun to write. I hope you enjoy!


	3. You Come into my Room and Wake me up

**Prompt 3:** "You come into my room and wake me up at 4am, to cuddle?"

 **Summary:** Takes place in between Timothy's hospitalization for Polio and the Turnadette wedding (a period of time I'm still sad was never explored in the show, but whatever, that's what fanfic is for I guess….definitely not bitter about it what are you talking about?)

 **Disclaimer:** I own nothing.

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Shelagh hadn't expected to be out so late, but she supposed with the nurses' hectic schedules (which she fully understood), it wasn't entirely surprising. It had actually been a lovely evening. Trixie, Cynthia, Jenny, and Chummy had all come together since Shelagh's reconciliation with Nonnatus and delightedly taken her in as one of the girls. That night, Shelagh had gotten to fulfill one of her dreams of going out dancing with her friends and it was everything she'd ever dreamed it would be.

It certainly felt strange at first. Her instincts told her she shouldn't be there, but the nurses quickly overrode any feelings of trepidation and made her feel so incredibly welcome that when they left, she automatically moved to follow them back to Nonnatus after dropping Chummy off at home. She made it all the way there - partially out of the need to make sure Trixie and Jenny made it home without falling over - before she realized she no longer lived there and it was far past curfew at her boarding house. In hindsight, she probably could've simply asked Cynthia if she could stay the night, but the truth was, she didn't fancy having to explain to the Sisters that the reason she was eating breakfast with them was because she'd spent the night dancing and drinking a bit more than she ever would've dared as a nun. She'd also shamelessly accepted one of Trixie's cigarettes, but that was a secret she was no stranger to keeping.

From her father, to Patrick, to now the nurses of Nonnatus, it seemed Henleys marked a great deal of pleasant memories with the people she loved.

Shelagh's musings on love and cigarettes occupied her slightly buzzed and sleepy mind until she found herself standing outside the Turner flat. She smiled to herself. She hadn't even known that was where she was heading, but it seemed her body knew exactly how to take her home.

She fished Patrick's spare flat key (now her most prized possession) out of her purse. It wasn't entirely proper for her to have it as they weren't to be married for another two weeks, but Patrick had insisted and between Timothy's recovery and Patrick's long, erratic work hours, she couldn't deny it was practical as well as sentimental.

She opened the door as softly as she could and crept inside with the silent practice of years of late night deliveries.

Despite her exhaustion, her first stop was the guest room downstairs to check on her soon-to-be son. Timothy was finally home from the hospital, but he'd been sleeping in the guest room to avoid struggling up and down the stairs in his calipers. Shelagh's heart broke for the boy. Mentally, he was just as feisty as ever and the confinement was driving him insane. She fully understood. Her stay in the Sanitorium was necessary, but she was losing her mind from boredom and anxiety by the end of it.

Shelagh gently pushed the guest room door open and the soft light from the hall illuminated a deeply sleeping Timothy. She walked over and gave him a kiss on the forehead as she smoothed the hair out of his eyes. He could rant as much as he wanted about his father, but the truth was, Timothy was far more like Patrick than he would ever admit - stubborn floppy hair and all. At least he was sleeping peacefully, that was good. He must've tired himself out in physical therapy today.

She sighed as she walked into the sitting room and stared at the couch. She'd gratefully slept on it during the bomb scare, but afterwards she'd realized that the slight ache in her back was likely caused by the lumpy, old, reliable couch. It would be better though. She'd be close to Timothy if he needed her (not that he even knew she was there) and she'd maintain the strict lines of propriety she and Patrick had set for each other.

But she was so, so tired.

And Patrick's room was so close.

And after an exhausting night with the girls, all she wanted was to cuddle in his arms…

Her body made the decision for her as she turned from the couch and made her way up the stairs. She'd moved some of her clothes into her future room the other day, and she felt her heart warm as she approached the door.

Shelagh had to bite back a laugh as she entered the room. Patrick had his arm flung above his head, mussing his hair in almost the exact same position as his son. His soft breathing beckoned her closer and her smile widened impossibly when she saw he was wearing the top he'd lent over Christmas.

She quietly grabbed a nightgown she'd stored the other day in the closet and made her way to the bathroom to change. Gazing at her pajama-clad self in the bathroom mirror, she paused in wonder. The girl looking back at her was not at all the girl that left the Sanitorium months ago, nor was she even the girl that stayed with her fiance over Christmas. The woman in the mirror was relaxed and exhausted, but confident, and she felt completely at home. Any doubts about her decision to stay with Patrick that night vanished and she happily made her way back to her future bedroom, eager to lie down.

Patrick hadn't moved since she left, so she gently slid under the covers on the side he wasn't occupying. Likely to be her permanent side, she realized, as she saw the pile of unkempt Lancet's on the nightstand by his head. A giggle escaped her and she gently prodded his shoulder, suddenly desperate for him to know she was there.

Patrick sleepily blinked awake.

"Shelagh?" He asked, incredibly confused, but also secretly thrilled. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm sorry to wake you, Patrick." She apologized. "The nurses took me out and it was past curfew and I didn't know where else to go, so I thought I would just come here. I missed you."

Patrick beamed and pulled her close to cuddle against him, smiling further as she quickly curled herself completely into his body like a little koala.

"You come into my room and wake me up at 4am, to cuddle?" He asked with a grin.

Shelagh blushed.

"I know it's not proper, but I just wanted to be close to you..."

He felt his heart melt.

"...and frankly, that couch is terribly uncomfortable." She finished with a smirk.

"Such cheek, Ms. Mannion." He teased.

"I felt you deserved to know the truth." She quipped back. "I really am sorry for waking you up, Patrick."

"It's alright, Shelagh, really." He assured. "You're always welcome here. I just didn't expect to wake up to the sight of you in my bed for another two weeks…"

"Patrick." She admonished and tucked her flushed face into his chest.

He laughed.

"Go to sleep, love. Just cuddles, I promise." He kissed her forehead and waited for her retort, but she was already lost to her dreams.

Patrick gently hugged her one last time and thanked God for the miracle in his arms before falling back into his own daze.

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Three down, 47 to go! Writing these is definitely the highlight of work now. :D I hope you enjoy!


	4. Just Talk to Me

**Prompt 4: "Just Talk to Me"**

 **Summary:** Pre-wedding, Shelagh finally talks about something that's been bothering her.

 **A/N:** The inspiration for this one came from a scene in Season 1 that got cut in the PBS versions (America...why?).. I'm doing a full series re-watch with the BBC cuts because I feel cheated out of what are turning out to be some FABULOUS scenes. Anyway, there's a cut subplot in 1x05 with Dr. Turner, Chummy, and a contraceptive clinic and Dr. Turner has a line in it that just begged for a Shelagh/Sister Bernadette reaction. Also I feel like there's a lot of really interesting unexplored territory with Shelagh being as devout as she is and Patrick being as scientifically minded as he is.

 **A/N2:** Thank you ginchy-amanda, alwayssmilingsam, and MariaLujan for your lovely reviews! I'm so thrilled that you like this series and I hope you enjoy this installment!

 **Disclaimer:** I own nothing.

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She honestly hadn't thought about that day in a while. Amidst the never ending chaos of Poplar health emergencies and her own personal struggles, a random day of Chummy asking for simple advice was easily pushed to the back of her mind. Now, though, with her Christmas Eve wedding only a week away, the memory had come creeping back and it wouldn't leave her alone.

 _Sister Bernadette stood over the autoclave, gently cleaning her instruments from the clinic. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw (and heard) Chummy attempt to walk quietly into the clinical room. She appreciated the attempt not to disturb her, but the energy about the young nurse seemed troubled and Sister Bernadette was nothing if not eager to help ease other's sorrows._

" _Nurse Brown, is there something I can help you with?" She asked. Chummy jumped, slightly startled and Sister Bernadette grinned._

" _Oh gosh, how do you do that?" Chummy asked on edge._

" _Years of silent contemplation do wonders for one's hearing." Sister Bernadette replied sweetly. "Also, while your skills as a nurse are certainly impressive, you do occasionally express a lack of subtlety."_

 _Coming from any other nun, Chummy would've felt criticized, but Sister Bernadette had a way of stating the truth without sounding harsh or judgemental - it was why Chummy had come to her in the first place about her current predicament._

" _I'm terribly sorry to disturb you Sister, but I was wondering if I could have a moment of your time." Chummy asked._

" _Of course, Nurse Brown." said Sister Bernadette. "Please, sit down. I hope you don't mind my finishing up here while we talk."_

" _Not at all." Chummy insisted. "Actually I think it might be easier to ask these questions if you don't look at me, so this arrangement is quite fine."_

 _Sister Bernadette looked questioningly at Chummy, but the younger nurse appeared so uncomfortable that she didn't press the odd comment. Better to let her speak in her own time._

 _Silence filled the room briefly until Chummy blurted out,_

" _Dr. Turner's asked me to run the contraceptive session."_

 _Sister Bernadette didn't even flinch; a fact which thoroughly surprised Chummy._

" _Oh, that's no matter, Nurse Brown. You've already proven in class that you possess the necessary knowledge." Sister Bernadette assured._

" _Yes." Chummy agreed half-heartedly. "But, it's not the knowledge, per se, that scares one, but rather, the implications."_

 _At this, Chummy looked down at her hands and heavily debated continuing. The truth was, she wasn't so afraid of the mechanics of marital relations - actually, they quite intrigued her. The issue lay with Dr. Turner's comment about how to approach religious concerns regarding contraception. She normally would've asked the other nurses, but she didn't feel that they would understand, but perhaps asking a nun was going too far?_

" _Which implications, precisely?" asked Sister Bernadette._

" _Well, I suppose, and I don't wish to speak ill, I just have concerns about how to - oh bother." Chummy sighed._

 _Sister Bernadette finished at the autoclave and sat beside the distraught nurse._

" _Chummy," Sister Bernadette began. Chummy looked up at the Sister's use of her given name, "I hope you feel that you can ask me anything you like. I may not have the answer, but there is never any harm in asking."_

 _Chummy smiled and took a breath to reassure herself._

" _It's about something Dr. Turner said." Chummy started. "Or rather, mentioned in passing." She paused. "He said he wants the mothers to understand that 'God belongs in the church, not in the marital bed' and while I see his point from a medical perspective, I'm just not sure I know how to run a clinic like that. Forgive me, Sister, but, I just don't know that it's my place to say where our Lord should be, especially in a marriage."_

 _Sister Bernadette paused. She'd known for years that Dr. Turner's faith was nearly entirely in science and what he could see and touch, but she supposed she hadn't noticed how freely he expressed those views in front of the nurses. She also hadn't noticed until now how much his opinion didn't bother her - at least not as much as it should. She'd given the contraception session many times herself and despite the implications of the church, she had no moral qualm with it. She'd seen too many babies and broken families in harsh conditions to think any less of a woman who wanted to be careful. She also unfortunately knew that not all marriages were happy and not every woman wanted to bring a child into the world. She couldn't understand it personally, but she could certainly sympathize._

 _Her silence must've made Chummy horribly nervous again._

" _I'm so sorry, I should never have asked." Chummy stammered._

" _No, No, Chummy." She quickly reassured. "You didn't offend me in any way."_

 _Chummy relaxed a bit._

" _You actually didn't tell me very much I didn't already know." She further explained. "Dr. Turner is extremely gifted at what he does, but he has never been a man of faith, especially since losing his wife."_

" _But you run the contraception sessions occasionally, Sister. How do you do it?" Chummy asked earnestly._

" _I do it by being honest with the mothers. That's all we can truly hope to be. No faith or lack of faith can change the facts we are presenting. As for the implications behind those facts, I rather agree with you. It is not for us to decide where our Lord belongs in anyone's life, including our own. We can only pray for guidance and trust that he will lead us where we are meant to go. After all, we are not forcing any of our patients to use contraception. The purpose of these sessions has never been to insist, but to teach. People will do what they do and it is our job as nurses to help make their decisions as safe as possible."_

" _I suppose that makes sense." said Chummy._

" _You don't have to ever mention God in these sessions, Nurse Brown." Added Sister Bernadette. "All you have to do is give proper instruction with the facts at hand and leave the rest up to Him."_

" _Thank you, Sister." Chummy smiled. "I think I know what to do."_

" _Godspeed, Nurse Brown." Sister Bernadette said softly as Chummy left the clinical room with a determined look in her eye._

That had been over a year ago. That had been before she'd faced her doubts about her calling, before she'd admitted she might care for the local GP a little more than was appropriate, and far before she found herself contemplating a marriage bed of her own.

Her relationship with her faith had faced massive hurdles over the past six months, but for some reason, until now, she'd never considered how her relationship with faith might play directly into her relationship with Patrick. He never spoke out against anything she believed in, and in fact, he'd encouraged Timothy to join her on Sundays and even occasionally joined himself. He always did his best to attend community events associated with the church - especially if Timothy was involved - and she noticed that even though he didn't tend towards prayer himself, if he ever attended a difficult birth with any of the Sisters, he bowed his head in respect as they prayed for strength.

This was different though. Their marriage was something no one else would witness except the two of them and God, and maybe that was what made her uneasy?

' _God belongs in the church, not in the marital bed.'_

That might be how Patrick felt, and she might be okay with others feeling that way, but she knew that for herself, she could never feel the way he felt.

And how would Patrick feel about her saying her prayers at night and occasionally rising for lauds when she couldn't sleep? How would he feel about the fact that more and more, her conversations with God were pleas for a future child and a strong marriage (both of which were directly related to him), and how would he feel about the fact that while she didn't judge anyone for using contraception, she didn't feel she ever could?

Those were the thoughts that plagued her as she sat in the sitting room, waiting for Patrick to come down from making sure Timothy was tucked up.

His footsteps on the stairs broke through her cloudy thoughts.

"He's out like a light. I'm still convinced he would've slept through the Blitz."

Patrick nearly skipped into the living room and joined Shelagh on the couch. He knew he'd have to take her home soon, but he cherished these stolen moments they had away from the rest of the world.

He frowned in confusion.

Normally, Shelagh curled into him and they shared kisses and talked about nothing and everything, but tonight, there was a tension about her.

"Is everything alright, darling?" He asked.

Was she that obvious?

"Yes, I'm sorry, I'm just a bit tired." She answered.

He gave her a searching look and couldn't help but notice how she couldn't meet his eyes and her hand instinctively went to smooth her hair behind her ear.

"You know, you're a terrible liar." He said with a soft grin.

"What?" She asked.

"Did you know that any time you're nervous or you lie, you look at your feet and tuck your hair behind your ear?" He asked.

"How on earth do you -"

"Years of well-honed Doctor's observational skills?" He teased.

"And he's humble too." She retorted with a smile. "I'm sorry. I guess I do have things on my mind, but they're silly, I wouldn't want to trouble you."

"Shelagh, love," He took her hand, "just talk to me."

The sincerity in his eyes broke through her reservations.

"I suppose," she began slowly, "I'm finding there are things I thought I was certain about when I was a nun that I'm a bit confused about now."

"Like what?" He asked encouragingly.

Better to just bite the bullet, she figured. She closed her eyes and blurted out, not unlike Chummy in their conversation from another time,

"I feel God belongs in our marital bed." She said so fast she wasn't sure he even understood her words.

Patrick blinked for a moment, trying to process what she was saying, but honestly, he was simply confused.

"Darling, what?" He tried to ask, but words were spilling out of her now and it was all he could do to keep up.

"I know you aren't a man of faith and that has never bothered me, but there are parts of my faith that I can't let go and I don't want you to laugh at me or be angry, but I can't separate God from our marriage and I can't help that I see marital relations as a holy act and I can't help that I don't think I could bear to use contraception, but I'm terrified that you might not want more children and I don't know what to say or think, but it's just been on my mind so much and I just need you to say something now please."

Patrick took a moment to collect his thoughts and attempt to say the right thing. She was so high strung right now that he feared saying the wrong thing and sending her running.

"Shelagh," He spoke softly, "can I ask what brought all of this on?"

She looked at him finally and breathed a sigh of relief at the lack of judgement on his face. Instead, he looked at her with concern and honest confusion.

"You once told Chummy that you believed God belonged in the church, not in the marital bed." She explained.

"When?" he asked, again simply trying to gain context.

"It was a long time ago. You asked her to run the contraceptive session and she came to me for help back when I was Sister Bernadette. I had completely forgotten about it, but I guess thinking about our own...marital bed," she blushed, "it came back into my mind."

Understanding began to dawn on his face.

"Oh Shelagh, I didn't mean what I think you think I meant." said Patrick. "I was frustrated with problems I felt I couldn't fix for patients. Mother's were overrun with children they couldn't feed and many of them, as I'm sure you know, kept saying things about how their husbands refused contraception, or they were told they couldn't use it because it was a sin, but none of them ever mentioned having their own choice in the matter and that angered me. Shelagh, I fell in love with all of you, including your faith, and I never expected you to abandon such a huge part of who you are when we married. If you want faith to play a part in our marriage and in any future children we may have, that I truly _hope_ we have, then I don't have a problem with that, but I want it to be your choice. I have nothing against religion on principle. I think...I think it just frustrates me when patients are put in danger because of their beliefs."

Shelagh felt tears prickling in her eyes, but not for the reason she expected.

She couldn't say exactly what she felt, so she hugged him tightly to her and relished in the feeling of his arms around her and the soft kisses he placed on her forehead.

Months later, after he asked her about the baby's night dress she was making, she came home one night to a new spool of bright yellow thread and a note on her pillow that read " _I hope for it every night as well, my love. Xoxo"_

Their faith was expressed in different ways, but she felt his hope on her heart as fiercely as she felt her nightly prayers.

* * *

4 down, 46 to go!


	5. Please Don't Cry

**Prompt 5:** "Please don't cry. I can't stand to see you cry."

 **Summary:** Patrick has a nightmare after explosion at the docks. TW: Violence and suggested gore (not explicit), PTSD.

 **A/N:** The support for this series has been amazing and I can't thank you guys enough!

 **Disclaimer:** I own nothing.

* * *

 _"_ _Dr. Turner!" The constable barges into the surgery, completely ignoring the range of curious to offended faces in the waiting room. Patrick turns from his whispered consultation with Nurse Crane._

 _"_ _Can I help you, constable?" He asks._

 _"_ _Explosion at the docks, sir." The constable pants. "Ambulances are on their way, but we need all the help we can get."_

 _Patrick pales. Shelagh's scheduled at the docks for vaccinations._

 _He rushes out of the surgery without a word to anyone._

 _The smog-filled air burns his lungs after years of cigarettes, but he doesn't care. He's sure he's never run this fast in his life. As he nears the docks, he can see the smoke rising from the explosion site and his heart drops._

 _He can't lose her. Not now. Not ever. He couldn't survive it._

 _And the baby. Their baby. They haven't even told anyone yet. Shelagh didn't want to. Said it was bad luck…_

 _He feels the bile rise in his throat against his will, but he wills it away and runs on._

 _The smell of burning bodies assaults him as he turns the corner to the factory._

 _It's a smell he never expected to forget, but the memories and horrors flood his mind faster than he anticipates and suddenly it feels as though there are miles of trenches and blood between him and Shelagh. It doesn't matter. He'll kill thousands to get to her._

 _His throat burns from more than his desperate sprinting and he feels himself screaming before he hears himself._

 _"_ _SHELAGH! SHELAGH WHERE ARE YOU?!"_

 _He ignores the wounded cries for help from the men littered around him against every instinct in his body. His passion for his craft is worth nothing if it can't save her._

 _He trips over piece after piece of rubble, blindly forcing his way through to where the vaccination table should be._

 _But it isn't there._

 _His eyes follow the trail of splinters and blood. As the drops build to streams, the anguish in his heart builds to ruin. Under what remains of the table is what remains of his darling wife…_

"SHELAGH!" Patrick screams in his sleep and the contentedly-sleeping real Shelagh jolts awake as her husband grabs frantically at the bed spread beside her.

"Patrick!" She frantically tries to wake him up, but he's so far gone that all she can really do is help him ride it out. "Patrick, it's okay, I'm here, I'm right here."

Her heart shatters as she wraps her arms around his chest and tries to stroke his hair. His tears fall onto her hands and she doesn't think she's felt this helpless since she was told she couldn't have children.

 _He can't feel the jagged scraps of wood and gravel in his hands and knees as he knocks rubble out of the way and pulls her into his lap. Her head falls limply against his chest and he crumbles as he adds her pulse to the list of things he cannot feel._

 _This isn't happening. This can't be happening again._

"Oh Patrick, please don't cry. I can't stand to see you cry, my love."

He mutters into her sleeve.

"Shelagh, please come back. Please, please don't leave me."

"Darling, I'm right here, you're having a nightmare." She cries. "Please wake up."

Patrick stops fitting, and Shelagh nearly sighs in relief until she realizes that he's moved from fear into pure misery and is sobbing in her arms.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, Shelagh." He cries over and over again. Shelagh can't tell if he's apologizing to her or to the version of her in his head, so she simply holds him even tighter than before, her thumb gently stroking his arm, willing him back to her.

A sliver of street light shines through the window and illuminates her bandaged hand. Suddenly she realizes exactly what his nightmare must have been about and she curses herself for not seeing it sooner.

Patrick stops shaking and slowly blinks awake, thoroughly confused and exhausted.

"Shelagh?" He asks into the dark. His voice is rough, but no longer as desperate and she thanks God that he managed to wake himself.

"I'm right here, dearest," she whispers, "let me get the light."

She gently untangles her arms and reaches over for the bedside lamp. They both instinctively shut their eyes against the unwelcome light and she turns back to hold him.

"It's alright," she soothes, "do you want to talk…"

"Do we still have that bottle of whiskey?" He interrupts her a little more harshly than he intends. "I'm sorry. I will talk to you, I just…I just need a moment." He amends.

Shelagh kisses his forehead and heads quickly to the kitchen.

Patrick takes the brief absence to collect himself a bit. He hadn't had a nightmare like that in years. Even when the memories of Northfield came back before Angela's adoption, he'd spent most of his time unable to sleep rather than trapped in dreams. Truth be told, he hadn't had a nightmare than heartbreaking since the day he found out Shelagh had TB…

"There's enough left for a couple of glasses if you need it." She says as she makes her way back to their bed.

He takes the bottle and the glass gratefully and appreciates that she doesn't push him as he knocks back his first pour. It's taken them some time to come to a place of full disclosure with each other, but they have and she knows that she just needs to give him a moment to form his thoughts when he needs to talk about anything serious.

"I dreamt about the explosion today." He starts. "A constable came to get me to help and I ran as fast as I could to get to you, but…"

"It was too late." She finishes for him. He nods.

"I couldn't bear it if anything happened to you." He whispers. "I don't think I would survive."

"Yes you would," she insists, "you would for Timothy and Angela, just as I would."

"I panicked today." He admits. "Sister Julienne told me you were at Nonnatus House and that you were injured at the explosion and I panicked. She had to calm me down before I could go see you. I was so ashamed"

"Oh Patrick, I didn't know. I'm so sorry." Shelagh apologizes.

"It's not your fault." He reassures. They sit in silence, her head resting on his shoulder.

"I'm not going anywhere." She promises.

"You can't promise that." He reminds her.

"Yes, I can." She determines.

He smiles at her and knows he won't win this battle, so he cuddles her to him as they drift off to sleep once more.

When she nearly miscarries, he tells her he's holding her to her promise.

When she's released from the hospital, she cheekily asks him if he ever doubted she'd keep it.

Now, holding their son as she sleeps, he knows nothing in the world is stronger than her stubborn will to survive.

* * *

5 down, 45 to go! This one got dramatic, but the next one is going to be a silly one. :D I'm going to try to alternate the moods. Hope you enjoy!


	6. Why Are You So Jealous?

**Prompt 6:** "Why are you so jealous?"

 **Summary:** Everyone assumed Shelagh's goldfish would be named Patrick… Set during Season 4.

 **A/N:** I just rewatched the goldfish episode and I had to write this. Also, I miss Jane. Jane was great.

 **Disclaimer:** I own nothing.

* * *

The table at Nonnatus house was full of food, love, and and an abundance of laughter that night. Jane (now Mrs. Jane Applebee-Thornton) had finally come to visit Poplar and the Nonnatuns were thrilled. Pasty, Barbara, Phyllis, and Sister Winnifred had felt slightly out of the loop, but as dinner progressed, they found themselves enamored with the sweet woman and in utter hysterics over the stories from Trixie, Cynthia, Sister Julienne, Sister Evangelina, and Shelagh. Jane had been predictably shocked to find out that the quiet, supportive nun she'd grown to love was now married with two children, but one look at Shelagh showed she was now happier than Jane ever remembered her being, so clearly everything was for the best.

Jane could understand that. The feeling of freedom and finding where you truly belong. She could see it in Shelagh's eyes. Any time Dr. Turner was mentioned, Shelagh's eyes glazed over for a millisecond and Jane could tell she was lost in her love for her husband.

Miraculously, they'd almost made it through dessert without the embarrassing tale of the goldfish coming up, but of course, Trixie couldn't allow that to go on any longer.

"So, how is little Reverend Applebee-Thornton?" Trixie asked gleefully.

"Little?" Asked Patsy.

"Oh, no, not this again." Sister Evangelina sighed.

Jane shook her head.

"It's alright, Sister." Jane assured. "Unfortunately, he's not with us anymore, but his replacement, Little Jane is doing quite well."

"Who are these people?" Asked Nurse Crane.

"Not people," Jane clarified, "goldfish. The nurses and I all went to a fair when I first arrived and I won a goldfish and we named it after Reverend Applebee Thornton."

"Oh, that's adorable." Barbara delighted.

"She left out the main part of the story!" Trixie chided Jane. "On our way back, we were trading salacious stories of our first kisses…"

"They weren't that salacious." Said Cynthia.

"Yes they were, miss first-kiss-at-eight-years-old…" Trixie cut in. The table turned to Cynthia with a shocked, but affectionate glance. "Anyway," Trixie continued, eager to bring the conversation back to the goldfish and off her friend, "we all shared and then we agreed that Jane's fish should be named after her first kiss. Well, at the time she didn't have one, but by the end of the Reverend's stay...let's just say, our little fish had a name."

The table smiled and laughed.

"Oh, I think that's wonderful." said Sister Winnifred. "It's quite romantic when you think about it."

Jane blushed.

"Jane, there's nothing to be embarrassed about." Shelagh reached out to grasp the young woman's hand. "I agree with Sister Winnifred. You and the Reverend could not have come together in a sweeter way and we're so happy for the both of you."

"I completely agree." Said Sister Julienne.

The phone's ring echoed through the dining room.

"If you'll excuse me, I'm first on call." Sister Evangelina excused herself and Sister Julienne and Sister Winnifred followed, suddenly realizing the time and needing to collect Sister Monica Joan for Compline.

"I just realized!" Trixie started.

The rest of the nurses turned to her expectantly and somewhat nervously of what was to come.

"We have so many new first kiss stories to hear." She burst into giggles.

"Oh, no Trixie, we couldn't." Barbara insisted, somewhat embarrassed.

"Oh go on," Trixie encouraged, "the nuns aren't here anymore and we all know Jane's now, it's only fair."

The table turned to Barbara and she crumbled under the army of eager smiles.

"Alright," Barbara sighed. "It wasn't all that exciting. Being a Vicar's daughter, I didn't go out very much. But there was this one boy in our Parish, Michael, and he and I were rather good friends, and well, one day, just after Sunday School, he asked me if I'd ever been kissed and I said no, so he just kissed me and said 'now you have!'."

"What?" Laughed Patsy.

"I was so confused, I ran home and we never spoke of it again." Barbara said, now laughing at her own story.

"What about you, Patsy?" Asked Cynthia.

"Nursing school. Community dance. Jack Parker." Patsy said matter-of-factly before she paused. "I kissed him on a dare and decided it wasn't an experience I ever wanted to repeat." She stuck her tongue out at the shocked faces.

"Patience Mount, I never." Trixie feigned offence.

"What can I say?" Patsy grinned, "I've always thought the best way to learn was from experience."

The table turned to the next Nurse in the line.

"Oh no," Nurse Crane protested, "I'm not one for these games, it's Shelagh's turn."

Shelagh smiled and was about to speak when Trixie interrupted.

"But we know Shelagh's already...or at least we know the who, I must admit, I'm rather curious about the when." Trixie suggested playfully.

No one noticed Dr. Turner walking towards the dining room to pick up his wife on his way home. He smiled at the sight of Shelagh laughing with her friends - something she never thought was possible only a year ago.

"You might not know as much as you think." Shelagh teased.

"You mean, Dr. Turner wasn't your first kiss?!" Trixie asked, enthralled with the possibilities.

Patrick stopped dead. He probably wasn't supposed to hear this conversation, but the part of him that respected his wife's privacy was losing horribly to the part of him that needed to know the answer to that question. He'd always just assumed he'd been her first, well, everything.

"No, he was my second." Shelagh said somewhat defiantly, proud that she'd managed to shock her friends.

"Dr. Turner!" Cynthia gasped.

Shelagh turned around so fast, she nearly fell off her chair.

"Patrick," she stammered, "what are you doing here?"

"I, um, I came to pick you up, but I can see I've come at a bad time." He paused awkwardly. "I'll see you at home." He turned around quickly and headed for the door.

"I'm sorry, I'll see you all tomorrow, I have to -" Shelagh rattled as she grabbed her coat.

"Go, lass. We'll see you tomorrow." Nurse Crane assured her.

"Well, that was awkward." Trixie stated. Cynthia gently elbowed her.

"Ow!"

* * *

Shelagh ran down the hall and out the door. Patrick was halfway down the stairs.

"Patrick!" She called out. "Patrick, wait!"

He stopped at the car and let her catch up.

"How much did you hear?" She asked.

"Shelagh, it doesn't matter, it's not as if you kissed someone else while we were together."

"I saw your face, dear, I know it bothers you." She replied.

"It doesn't," He started, but stopped at her raised eyebrow.

"Darling, why are you so jealous?" She asked softly. "It was so long ago, it didn't mean anything."

"I know that." He said honestly. "I really do know that. It just always felt so special to think that I was your first."

"You were my first everything else." She said cheekily. He smirked. "And you'll be my last." She promised sweetly.

He pulled her into a gentle kiss and quickly forgot why he was ever upset.

"Patrick." Shelagh whispered.

"Mmmhmm." He hummed against her cheek.

"Take me home."

* * *

Hours later, they lay together in a blissful, sleepy tangle of limbs and sweat, all worry and jealousy completely forgotten.

Patrick couldn't help but be curious, though.

"So, who was your first kiss?" He asked.

"Oh no, Patrick, are we back to that?" She sighed.

"I'm not upset, I'm just insatiably curious." He turned to look at her with the eagerness of a little boy in his eyes and she couldn't refuse him.

"You're insatiably a lot of things." She muttered. "His name was Colin. He lived on the farm next to us and one day, we were out playing,"

"Playing?" He asked.

"I was nine, Patrick, I told you it didn't mean anything, you silly man." she laughed, "Anyway, we were playing tag and he tagged me a little too hard and we both tripped and fell on top of each other and he just kissed me."

"What did you do?" Patrick asked.

"I laughed at him." Shelagh smiled, embarrassed. "I think I hurt his feelings, poor thing."

Patrick laughed and turned them so he hovered over her again, kissing her soundly.

"I'm glad you don't laugh when I'm on top of you kissing you." he said, his voice noticeably deeper than before.

"Never." Shelagh whispered before pulling him down.

* * *

6 down, 44 to go! Hope you enjoy!


	7. Do You Want to Kiss as Badly as I Do?

**Prompt 7:** "Do you want to kiss as bad as I do right now?"

 **Summary** : AU Season 2 Christmas Special: Sister Evangelina finds out that Shelagh is staying with the Turners during the bomb scare and goes to collect her.

 **A/N:** I'm not even sure what this has to do with the prompt anymore, but here we are.

 **Disclaimer:** I own nothing.

* * *

"I want all cubs off to bed now, especially you, young Jack." Chummy ushered her wolf pack back into bomb shelter and the finally-exhausted boys made their way through the maze of beds to find their families. Chummy watched Jack with some concern. All the boys were tired, but he seemed more out of sorts than the rest. Probably just the exhaustion of the party and the days of relocation, nothing to worry about...but still.

Freddie must have noticed her attention was elsewhere as he immediately began to fuss.

"Oh, dear, what now, young sir? Shall we walk a bit?" She gently bounced Freddie and his cries calmed, but his face still threatened to wail. She couldn't blame him. Truth be told, she was as grateful as the cubs to get out of the cramped hall for a bit. The air was thick with all manner of unsavory smells as well as a growing feeling of anxiety.

She walked towards the back of the hall towards the small corner she'd carved out for her family. With any luck, Peter would be back from his shift at the bomb site soon and she could grab a few cuddles and some much-needed sleep. At least Dr. Turner was kind enough to bring the boys back for her. Passing the nurses' station, she quickly realized they were just as tired as her, however, and she couldn't fight the need to offer assistance.

"I say, can I do anything?" asked Chummy.

"I think you've got your hands fully, Chummy," said Cynthia, smiling at Freddie, "but the gesture's appreciated."

"Besides, you got the boys out from under our feet for the night, and I'd say that's more than enough work." Added Trixie.

"Oh, it was no bother at all." Chummy insisted. "Actually, I really just had to drop them off. Got to sit down for most of it."

"Where did you bring them that's not closed off?" asked Sister Evangelina.

"Dr. Turner's." explained Chummy, feeling very inspired with her choice. "Kennilworth wasn't evacuated and they thought it might be nice for Timothy to see his friends as well."

"They?" asked Jenny.

"Oh, Dr. Turner and Shelagh." said Chummy, unaware of the secret she was spilling and the raised eyebrows on Sister Evangelina's face. "Poor thing got evacuated from her lodging house, but it was bally good of her to plan the boys a party."

"And she's staying there?" Sister Evangelina asked as her voice began to rise. "With him?"

"Yes, she - oh." Chummy stopped as she realized what she'd said. "Oh bugger, I don't think I was supposed to say anything. Oh, I didn't even think."

"I told you, it's always the quiet ones." Trixie giggled.

"That's enough cheek from you, thank you very much, Nurse Franklin." Sister Evangelina scolded. "Here, take over." She thrust her pile of folding into Trixie's hands.

"What, where are you going?" Trixie asked.

"She's not staying another night in that house until after she's married if I have anything to say about it, I don't care if the wedding's in two days!" Sister Evangelina proclaimed as she determinedly marched from the hall.

"Oh no." Chummy lamented. "What have I done?"

"We'll be lucky to see either of them alive in the morning." Sighed Jenny.

"Should someone go with her?" asked Cynthia.

"So they can be a casualty of war?" asked Trixie. "No thank you."

* * *

 _Turner Residence_

"I think that's everything." Shelagh sighed as she snuggled into the couch in Patrick's (her's now) pajamas. Patrick sat at her side and rubbed soft circled on her hand. She was sleepy, but happy, and he was glad to see some of the worry disappear from her face.

"You didn't have to clean up, love, you're a guest." He gently brought her hand to his lips, forever marveling that she was sitting next to him at all.

"I won't be a guest for long, Patrick." She reminded him excitedly. "Besides, I'm happy to do it."

"It was really good of you to put all this together for them. I can't imagine all that energy pent up in the hall." said Patrick.

"It was no trouble." She replied honestly. "It was actually quite fun."

"Preparing for the future?" He asked teasingly.

She laughed and shook her head.

"I don't think we need that many, but I can't deny that one day, I hope we have one or two more." Suddenly she realized she'd never asked him about any of this. "If you want, that is." She corrected. "I just assumed, I mean, do you want more children?"

"Oh darling, of course I do." He assured.

Her sigh of relief saddened him a bit. How could she not see that he wanted everything she wanted?

"Shelagh, I've always wanted more children, I just never thought it would be possible after Marianne died. And then I started having feelings for you even though I didn't think it would happen, I couldn't stop wondering about how formidable a little mini Sister Bernadette would be, or how much you would dote on our little ones, or how you would teach Tim to be a big brother, and now...now everything is so clear and I've never been more excited for the future."

Shelagh felt tears in her eyes and Patrick reached up to gently wipe them away as she moved to hide them. How was it possible for her to love him more with every second.

"Do you want to kiss as badly as I do right now?" She asked, somewhat overwhelmed by the intense feelings and desperately wanting to build them and break the bubble at the same time.

"I always do." He whispered with a smile before closing the gap between them.

Their lips barely touched when an aggressive banging on the front door shocked them apart.

"Who on earth…" Patrick muttered.

"Dr. Turner, open this door right now!" Sister Evangelina's voice boomed through the wood and Shelagh felt her heart drop into the floor.

"How did she know?" Shelagh gasped.

"I don't know, but you don't have anything to be ashamed of." He quickly reassured her.

"She won't see it that way!" Shelagh panicked.

"Shelagh," He gently placed his hands on her shoulders.

"Doctor Patrick Turner!" Sister Evangelina shouted.

"I'd better go before she breaks the door." He muttered.

Patrick walked slowly, steeling himself to face the Sister's wrath. On the one hand, he knew perfectly well that his fiance should not be sleeping in his house mere nights before their wedding, but on the other hand, he and Shelagh hadn't done anything improper and she was clearly far too nervous to be lodging with the Nonnatuns. Also, if he was being completely honest with himself, he rather enjoyed the sight of her curled up on his couch in his pajamas.

Taking one last calming breath, he opened the door as Sister Evangelina was about to knock again and he had to back up quickly to avoid her fist.

"Good evening Sister, how can I help you?" He asked as though nothing was out of the ordinary in any way.

"Where is she?" she asked. _Straight to the point, then._ Patrick thought.

"She's in the sitting room. Would you like to come in?" he invited.

Sister Evangelina scowled, but managed to walk past him into the flat without maiming him.

Patrick followed closely behind her, not wanting to abandon Shelagh, who, for her part, was fidgeting on the couch with the blanket pulled up to her chin to hide her clothing.

Sister Evangelina was clearly on a mission as she entered the room.

"Come on, up you get, gather your things." she instructed to a confused Shelagh.

"What?" Shelagh asked, somewhat dumbfounded.

"Did you lose your ears when you lost your habit, let's move." Sister Evangelina snapped as she pulled Shelagh off the couch.

"What on earth are you doing?" Patrick stammered as the older Sister manhandled his fiance off his couch.

"What am I doing?" Sister Evangelina asked in disbelief. "I think the better question is what on earth did the two of you think you were doing? Do you think we don't hear the gossip? Do you think people don't ask us the questions they're too embarrassed to ask you?" She turned to Shelagh and her eyes narrowed even further. "What did you think you were solving hiding out here in his clothes? Look at you!"

"I'm sorry, Sister." Shelagh said softly. Patrick wasn't nearly as subdued, however.

"How dare you? She hasn't done anything wrong, stop yelling at her like she's a child, especially when you've done nothing but treat her coldly for weeks." He rattled.

"Patrick, don't." Shelagh pleaded.

"She didn't give us a chance to treat her any other way!" Sister Evangelina bit back. "She's been avoiding Nonnatus like we have the bloody plague. Well, I'll tell you something. Sister Julienne might be willing to give her time and prayers, but I'm not about to stand around and watch you let her ostracize herself from the entire community, and I'll be dead before I let her spend another night unmarried in a man's flat when her family is more than happy to look after her."

Patrick was about to fire back, but Shelagh's voice stopped him.

"My family?" she asked softly.

Sister Evangelina finally took a pause from her tirade and truly took in Shelagh's face and appearance.

She was practically swimming in his pajama shirt (made even bigger by her lost weight during her recovery) and the tiny bit of slip poking out of the bottom barely covered her knees - she must have been freezing, it explained the pile of blankets. It also meant that she hadn't had time to grab anything on her way out of her lodgings - or she didn't have many belongings yet. Her eyes were tired, but not tired from work as Sister Evangelina had become accustomed to seeing on her. No, she was utterly, emotionally exhausted. It had been easy for the older woman to harbor hurt at Shelagh's leaving when she could imagine her skipping and happy, but the young woman before her broke her heart. She'd been such a fool.

"Yes, Sis-Shelagh." said Sister Evangelina. "Your family. Whether you like it or not." She paused for a moment, unwilling to relent on taking Shelagh with her, but realizing the need for a calmer approach. "And they would never forgive me if I returned empty-handed, they miss you very much, so put yourself together."

Shelagh didn't bother to try to stop her tears. She'd been prepared for disappointment, resentment, really anything besides acceptance, and yet, the Sister she most thought hated her had just proclaimed her family. She couldn't believe it. She also didn't want to leave Patrick, though.

"Patrick," she started to apologize.

"Go, love." He smiled. "You've missed them just as much...and in two days, you won't ever have to leave again."

She blushed at the secret smile he reserved only for moments of teasing her and she could've sworn she saw Sister Evangelina roll her eyes in her periphery.

"Let me just get changed." said Shelagh, looking lighter than she had in days. She'd loved staying with Patrick, but she missed her Sisters and the Nurses desperately and hadn't Patrick just said the other day that it wasn't too late to invite them to the wedding?

She kissed Patrick goodbye, much to the Sister's chagrin, with all the love she had and made her way out the door.

* * *

 _The Hall_

Shelagh walked nervously, but excitedly into the hall behind Sister Evangelina carrying her simple wedding dress - which she now planned on exchanging - and wearing her basic dress suit. Nestled safely in the box with her dress was Patrick's pajama shirt, but Sister Evangelina didn't need to know that. She walked over to the nurse's table as Sister Evangelina went to inform Sister Julienne and Sister Monica Joan and Shelagh immediately found herself surrounded by hugs.

"Oh, I'm so sorry, Shelagh." Chummy apologized.

"You're lucky she made it here in one piece, Chummy." Trixie chided with a smile.

"It's quite alright." Shelagh insisted. "I'm," she paused, "I'm so glad to see you all."

The sincerity in her voice melted the group.

"Shelagh." Sister Julienne's soft voice cut lovingly through the group and Shelagh turned to the woman who might as well be her mother. "Did you think for one moment that we wouldn't want you here? That we wouldn't welcome you with open arms?"

"I didn't want to intrude." Shelagh admitted sadly.

"You could never be an intrusion." Jenny insisted. "We love you."

"And we've missed you terribly." added Cynthia.

"And it certainly wouldn't hurt to have an extra pair of hands around here." Trixie hinted.

"Well, I can see nothing's changed." Shelagh laughed. "I'm happy to help. To be honest, I miss the work."

"Of course you do." Sister Julienne smiled. "But for now, you need to rest. You're still convalescing. If you're feeling up to it tomorrow, you are welcome to help, but I don't want you to push yourself, especially with the wedding so close."

The nurses gasped. In the chaos of the relocations, they'd nearly forgotten than Shelagh rejoining them meant wedding details and many a welcome distraction from the seemingly constant needs of the people around them.

"Oh you must tell us all about the wedding," Jenny gushed, "and if there's anything we can do, we're happy to help."

"Absolutely anything." Cynthia agreed.

"Thank you." Shelagh nearly cried. "Thank you for being so kind."

"We would never be anything else, my dear." said Sister Julienne. "Now then, let's find you a place to sleep."

"We'll find her a cot near us." Trixie insisted. "After all, if you stick around, you'll be Nurse Turner in a couple of days."

Shelagh beamed. Mrs. Turner made her heart flutter, but Nurse Turner felt like coming home.

* * *

7 down, 43 to go! Hope you enjoy!


	8. Stop Pretending You're Okay

**Prompt 8:** "Stop pretending you're okay, because I know you're not."

 **Summary:** Grief hits us when it wants and how it wants. Set during Season 4.

 **Disclaimer:** I own nothing.

* * *

"Oh, Mum, I forgot, there was a letter for you today." Timothy garbled; face full of potatoes.

"Timothy, don't talk with your mouth full." Patrick lightly scolded with the exasperated tone of someone who's had to say the same thing so many times they don't even know what it means anymore.

Timothy swallowed dramatically.

"Sorry." He said cheekily. "I put it on the piano."

"Thank you Timothy." said Shelagh. "Would you hold Angela for a moment?"

Patrick smirked when Shelagh didn't really give Tim an option as she stood and sat the baby in his lap, thoroughly interrupting his attempt to put a spitefully large bite of potatoes in his mouth.

"Mum!" Timothy protested. "I'm eating!"

"No, you're hoarding." She chided. "Replace half the potatoes on your plate with spinach and I'll take Angela back in a moment."

Tim looked to his father for help as Shelagh left to grab her letter, but Patrick proved an unreliable ally.

"Don't look at me," Patrick laughed, "I'm not poking the bear over a couple of potatoes."

"I can hear you, Patrick." Shelagh warned as she opened the letter. "And I'll thank you not to-"

Shelagh went silent, staring at the paper before her.

"Darling, is everything alright?" asked Patrick.

Shelagh quickly folded up the letter and shoved it in her skirt pocket, forcing her smile back on before Timothy could see.

"Of course," she replied, "it's nothing."

Patrick didn't believe her, but she shot him a look that clearly said 'not in front of the children', so he didn't push.

Later that night, while Patrick was putting the children to bed, Shelagh stared into the soapy dish bubbles. She didn't understand why she cared so much. She hadn't spoken to her father in years, so why should she care about a letter from an old neighbor telling her he'd passed away. It wouldn't make any difference in her life. She had no plans to contact him ever again, so it didn't matter that now she didn't have the option. If anything, she should feel relieved that she no longer had to worry about him coming back into her life. It wasn't as though he'd be leaving her any keepsakes or property - the man was practically bankrupt the last time she'd heard and anything he had left, he would've spent on drink. ' _Or women.'_ Shelagh thought bitterly.

She didn't want to be thinking about these things. In fact, she'd spent a great deal of her adult life actively not thinking about her family and her past and she liked it that way. She'd been lucky enough that by the time she married, enough years had passed to fade away any marks that might've made Patrick ask questions.

She berated herself for that. It wasn't fair that just recently she'd yelled at him for not telling her an extremely sensitive part of his own past and she didn't want to be unfair. It was just that she never thought she'd have to deal with this ever again. There was nothing in her medical history, there was no one in her life from that time, there was nothing to ever bring it up...until now.

' _Damn him'_ she cursed to herself.

Patrick came downstairs to find his wife washing the same plate she'd been scrubbing away at when he went upstairs 20 minutes earlier.

"Shelagh." he spoke softly.

No response.

"Shelagh." He tried a little louder. When she still didn't respond, he gently touched her shoulder and she jumped.

"Sorry." He immediately apologized.

"It's okay," she muttered, "I just wasn't expecting you down so fast."

"Love, you've been washing that plate for twenty minutes." He gently informed her.

"What?" she asked in disbelief as she glaced at the clock. "Oh. I supposed I'm more tired than I thought."

He took the plate from her and dried it off before softly turning her cheek to meet his eyes.

"Are you sure you're alright?" He asked, knowing what the answer would be.

"I'm fine, Patrick, really." She insisted. "I just need to sleep."

"You know you can talk to me about whatever was in that letter." He reminded her.

He immediately regretted his comment as he watched the walls go up behind her eyes.

"I told you, it's nothing." She placated with a forced smile. "It's late, let's go to bed."

She walked from the room before he could protest and he sighed. It was going to be a long week.

* * *

She'd gotten the letter on Thursday and by the following Monday, everyone they knew was concerned. Her response to the letter had been to make herself as busy as possible and there was scarcely a second of the day she wasn't running around.

At their weekly lunch, Sister Julienne had tried to at least interest her in less strenuous activities if she wasn't willing to talk about whatever was going on, but Shelagh simply insisted she was fine and whisked Angela off on her way to Violet's haberdashery on her way back to the Surgery to pick up yet more fabric for the Easter show costumes for the Cubs and Brownies - despite the fact that Chummy and Fred had insisted they didn't need them and that Chummy was perfectly capable of helping. ' _And when was she sewing anyway?'_ they wondered. ' _She couldn't have the time.'_

Patrick, Timothy, and Angela were particularly suffering. Angela was getting fussier as her mother's energy grew more and more chaotic, Timothy felt miserable between worrying about his mother and being annoyed at her insistence on having him help her with various tasks, and Patrick was losing his mind trying to balance the three of them, his patients, and Shelagh's inability to sleep - which quickly became his inability to sleep… She'd spent the entirety of the previous night either stitching or waking him to go over patient notes until he kicked her out of the room in desperation. To be honest, he wasn't sure how she was still standing.

She was already at the clinic on Tuesday morning before everyone else arrived and was halfway through setting up when the nurses arrived.

"Goodness, when on earth did you get here, Mrs. Turner?" Nurse Crane asked shocked.

"Oh, about an hour ago." Shelagh replied as she hurried across the room with a screen. "Couldn't sleep, and I thought it was better to be productive."

Nurse Crane, Nurse Franklin, and Nurse Mount looked at each other, but there was nothing they could say and they knew it. She either had to ride out whatever was bothering her or decide to face it. They could try to at least give her a break though.

"Well, we're here now, so why don't you let us take over and take a rest until we open?" Suggested Pasty.

"Oh, no, that's not necessary." Shelagh replied. "The more hands, the better."

Patsy went to try again, but Trixie shook her head. She was more familiar with Shelagh's Scottish stubbornness than the other two and she knew there was no point.

To Shelagh's credit, the clinic was set up in record time which left them all with 15 minutes to rest. The Nurses were grateful, but Shelagh got antsy after five minutes of drinking her tea and immediately got up and began rearranging screens.

"This has to stop." Phyllis shook her head in the direction of the main hall. "The poor lass is going to collapse from exhaustion."

"I've never seen her like this," Patsy sighed, "whatever it is, it must be bad."

"The last time she was this on edge was before she and Dr. Turner got together." Trixie mused. "They've always calmed each other down since then."

"Maybe they're fighting?" Patsy suggested.

"It's none of our business if they are." Reminded Nurse Crane. "But if they are, I hope they do something about it soon, she can't go on much longer like this."

Loud banging at the clinic door drew their attention.

"I swear, they get more persistent every week." Trixie muttered as she walked over. "We're not open yet!" She yelled over the noise.

"Nurse Franklin, it's Dr. Turner!" Patrick yelled from the other side of the door. "I can't open the door!"

Trixie quickly opened the door, confused as to why he didn't just come in. That confusion was swiftly alleviated, however, when he stumbled into the clinic, hands full of supplies and a crying Angela, and brow sweating.

"Thank you." He half-heartedly threw in her direction. "Shelagh?" He called out.

"Screens." Trixie pointed. "I'll take the little one."

Angela reached out her tiny arms to her Auntie Trixie who was certainly calmer than her daddy this morning.

"What are we going to do with Mummy and Daddy, hmm Miss Angela?" Trixie gently bounced the girl and brought her into the kitchen simply shaking her head when the other two questioned her.

Meanwhile, Patrick nearly ran to the screens.

"Shelagh." He called again. "Shelagh, I know you're back here."

Shelagh came out, somewhat irritated.

"I'm not exactly hiding, Patrick." She snapped. "We need to open soon, what is it?"

"The others will get clinic started, we need to talk." He said firmly.

"Patrick, we don't have time." She insisted, not liking where this was going.

"Then we'll make time, Shelagh." He stood his ground. "This has to stop."

"What has to stop?" She asked innocently.

"You know exactly what I mean." He tried to keep his voice comforting despite his frustration, but he could tell he was failing. "Stop pretending you're okay, because I know you're not."

"Patrick, I'm fine." She tried.

"No, you're not!" He finally snapped. His raised voice made them painfully aware of where they were, so he gently grabbed her arm and guided her outside through the back door.

"Patrick, what are you doing?" Shelagh protested.

"You have to deal with this." He pleaded. "Whatever it is. And I want to be the person to help you, but please, Shelagh, if you can't talk to me, talk to Sister Julienne, talk to Trixie, talk to anyone."

He could see tears welling up, and it broke his heart, but at least he was getting through to her.

"Everyone is worried about you, even Angela, and she doesn't know what's going on - all she knows is that her mummy is acting strange."

She broke at his mention of Angela and he gathered her in his arms as she cried.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry." She cried into his coat.

"It's alright love." He whispered. "It'll be alright."

"I wanted to tell you, I just didn't know how." She explained. "I didn't want you to think any less of me."

"There's nothing you could tell me that would make me love you any less, Shelagh." He promised. "Didn't we just do this the other way around?"

"Yes." She admitted.

"And didn't you say the same thing to me?" He asked.

"Yes." She sniffed. "I know I've been unfair. I'm sorry."

He held her in silence until she pulled back to look at him.

"My father died." She said simply.

His heart dropped.

"Shelagh, that's nothing to be ashamed of at all, why on earth didn't you tell me? I'm so sorry, love."

"Because it's not that simple, Patrick." She stopped him.

"Why don't you head home and rest for the day and I'll tell the others you're not feeling well?" He suggested.

He fully expected her to refuse, so he was genuinely surprised when she nodded.

"I think maybe I should I listen to you all this time." She spoke softly. "I'll tell you everything when you get home. I promise."

"I love you." He kissed her on the forehead.

"I love you, too." She whispered before she walked inside to grab Angela and her purse.

* * *

Patrick came home to Tim reading in the sitting room while Shelagh lay fast asleep on the couch with Angela curled up on top of her, just as lost in dreams.

"They barely made it through dinner." Tim commented quietly.

"I'm just glad she's resting." Patrick smiled.

"Me too." Tim agreed. "Is mum okay, dad?"

Patrick paused, unsure if he should say, but Tim was growing up and they couldn't hide everything from him anymore.

"She will be." He assured. "Her dad passed away."

"Oh." Tim said quietly.

"We just have to give her some time." said Patrick.

"Like when Mummy died?" asked Tim.

"Exactly." Agreed Patrick. "Why don't you head up to bed. I'll take over down here."

Tim nodded sleepily and made his way to his room, glad that his dad was there to look after them.

Patrick knelt down by the couch and gently nudged Shelagh.

"Sweetheart, wake up." He whispered.

Shelagh blinked awake against the lamp light.

"Oh," she murmured groggily, "I didn't mean to fall asleep."

"You needed it." Patrick said as he brushed her hair out of her eyes. "Both of you, apparently."

Shelagh glanced down and smiled at the sight of Angela fast asleep, her tiny hand grabbing onto Shelagh's cardigan.

"I'll take her up." Patrick offered, but Shelagh shook her head.

"I'll do it. I haven't exactly been there as much as I would've liked." she said.

"Alright."

Patrick watched Shelagh carry Angela to bed and couldn't help but notice her holding her a little tighter than usual. Of course, she felt guilty over the past few days.

He sighed and made his own way to bed. He hoped Shelagh would talk to him. She'd promised earlier that day, but he knew better than anyone how hard it was to talk about past demons and how easy it was to forget how hard it could be.

Shelagh came into their room a few minutes later and didn't even bother to change. She simply went straight for their bed and curled into his side. He was wearing his burgundy pajamas and she loved the feel of the soft cotton on her face.

"I haven't spoken to my dad in years." She said so softly he almost didn't hear her.

"You never mentioned him when we were planning the wedding." he pondered.

"He wouldn't have come." She said simply. "He hasn't been invested in anything that made me happy in quite some time." She paused. "I wasn't ashamed to tell you that he died...I just didn't want to see your face when I told you I didn't want to go to the funeral...if there even is a funeral."

"Family can be complicated, I would never judge you for that." He assured her.

"He wasn't always...less than pleasant." She started. "I believe he loved me very much before my mum passed. She died when I was Timothy's age."

"He didn't handle it well." Patrick tried not to let his own regret seep in.

"No." She admitted with a small sniffle. She hated that he could hear the minute she started to cry, but she'd always been like that. "He started drinking, and I don't think he ever stopped."

"I'm sorry." said Patrick.

"It was bearable at first. He seemed to have forgotten I existed. I preferred that to when he remembered I was there…." She trailed off.

"Did he-" Patrick really didn't want to ask. "Did he hurt you?"

"He beat me." She cried. "A lot. I"m sorry, I didn't want you to know." Shelagh sobbed into Patrick's pajama top.

Patrick held her as tight as he could and let her cry for everything she'd been holding in. She cried for her past, for her father, for her guilt.

"I love you, Shelagh Turner." He whispered over and over again, hoping she could truly hear it. "I love you with all my heart."

"But you shouldn't," she sobbed, "I'm so broken."

He pulled her up and forced her to look at him.

"I will never think that, do you understand?" He asked, his own tears falling now. "I will never see you as broken. All I see before me is the brave little girl who fought her way out of a terrible situation and became an incredible nurse, wife, and mother."

"Really?" she asked in genuine disbelief.

"Always." he promised. "And if you don't want to go to his funeral, then you don't have to, and if you do, I will go with you, it's not even a question. We're a team."

"I love you, Patrick." she tried to imbue all the impossible ways she loved this man into her words, but it would never be enough, so instead she kissed him and let him comfort her through the night.

* * *

8 down, 42 to go! Hope you enjoy!


	9. If We Get Caught

**Prompt 9:** "If we get caught, I'm blaming you."

 **Summary:** Finding privacy in South Africa was surprisingly difficult.

 **A/N:** THIS PARTICULAR PROMPT IS M-RATED PROCEED AT YOUR OWN RISK

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

* * *

Patrick was losing his mind, although he couldn't say if the unbearable heat driving him to insanity was more caused by the hot African sun or his overly-flirtatious wife. She had to be just as frustrated as him, he supposed, though if she was, she was doing a bang up job of hiding it.

It all started with her ridiculous bri-nylon nightgown...which shouldn't even look this tempting and since when did he like ruffles? Apparently, he liked ruffles now, or at least the sight of Shelagh in nearly nothing _but_ ruffles since the remainder of the garment left absolutely nothing to his imagination. Her grin as she walked into their bedroom the other night told him she knew exactly what she was doing and that combined with her outfit sent him reeling into a fit of passion he didn't know he was capable of.

That lasted about five minutes before they were interrupted by Sister Winnifred knocking on their door asking if they were going to be "done moving their furniture around soon" because she and Sister Julienne were woken up by the noise. If she noticed that Patrick's hair was in disarray or that Shelagh was hiding half-naked in the corner, she didn't say and neither of them were about to tell her that the noise was in fact Patrick practically throwing the former sister against the adjoining wall.

They could've continued and been mindful of the noise, but Shelagh couldn't shake the awkwardness of knowing her former Sisters were on the other side of the wall and he wasn't going push her. Since then, he'd been practically drooling over her and he'd had to check himself a couple of times from blatantly staring at her while they were working. Shelagh, meanwhile, wasn't making his struggle any easier. She would never be outwardly seductive around their colleagues, but he was convinced that she was going out of her way to make sure that she gently skimmed his hand every time she walked by and that she was consciously putting an extra sway into her step.

Of course, he might be imagining everything. She might be doing none of those things and his over-active desire might be putting images in his head, but he liked to think he knew his wife better than anyone and he was pretty confident she was as frustrated with the situation as he was. After all, they'd 'talked' about how much they were looking forward to time away from the children and now it seemed that the nuns were even worse…

This would not do.

He made a show that night of walking with her to their room and waving goodnight to the rest of the group in their dwelling area, feigning exhaustion with over-exaggerated yawns. He closed the door behind them and she made to get ready for bed, but he gently grabbed her wrist and held his finger to his lips.

"Patrick, what-"

"Shh." He hushed her, listening for movement outside their room. Satisfied that everyone had apparently retired, he quietly inched the door open and pulled a confused Shelagh out of the room.

"Where are we going?" she asked, even though the determined blaze in his eyes gave her a strong inkling.

"Where Sister Julienne can't hear us." he murmured back.

Her skin shivered and she eagerly followed him. She still wasn't quite bold enough to initiate sex outside of their bedroom, but she would go along with it if he was the instigator. So, she'd been spending the past two days trying to provoke him into recklessness and it seemed she succeeded in her task.

As they silently made their way to...somewhere...Shelagh couldn't help the growing feeling of nervousness. Thinking about sneaking around and potentially being caught was one thing, but actually doing it was quite another. Not only that, but neither of them actually seemed to have a planned destination-

Shelagh gasped as Patrick suddenly turned, yanked her into the clinical room, and started backing her towards the supply closet, his hands clawing at the buttons on her nurse's uniform as he placed frantic kisses against her neck. Somewhere during his search for a quiet spot, he'd become too wary of being completely exposed outside and too desperate to search any longer.

"Patrick...we...shouldn't…" she stuttered out between her own contradictory kisses. "Not...here…oh!"

Her back hit the door to the supply closet as he used her body to close it. She wasn't sure when they'd gotten all the way there, but she couldn't find it in her to fight her body much longer - not when fingers had somehow gotten her dress completely unbuttoned and were quickly making their way down the front of her panties and ' _how does he always find that spot so quickly?_ '

"Do you think I didn't know what you were doing these past two days?" He growled into her chest as he kissed and nipped his way towards her breasts, shocked that her soft moaning turned to whimpers as he got a bit rougher. "The others wouldn't have noticed. They would never think little innocent Shelagh was capable, but they don't know you like I do." He punctuated his last sentence by sliding two fingers inside her and she nearly sobbed with relief. He was right. She needed this just as badly as he did, sometimes she just needed him to push her over the edge of the remnants of sexual shame she still carried. There weren't many left, but they both knew they were there and by God did he loved knocking down those walls with his bold wife.

She crept her hand down to the now-grown bulge in his trousers and relished in the catch in his breath as he struggled to maintain control.

"If we get caught," she whispered, "I'm blaming you."

"Gladly." He would take every ounce of blame if he could be inside her in the next 30 seconds.

The wall banged behind them as they tore away at the rest of their clothing, but neither cared anymore. There was something exhilarating about being so carefree in a foreign country away from everything that plagued them over the last few months in Poplar and they felt their skin was singing with freedom.

When he finally slid inside her and she threw her legs around his waist, he cried out louder than he meant to; caught up in the thrill of finally having her. Shelagh clenched tightly around him and tried desperately to find leverage against the door only to find that in this position, she had to let him lead or he might drop her. He chuckled at her frustration, but quickly picked up his pace at a less-than-gentle bite against his shoulder. _God, Shelagh._

She was going to have bruises on her back in the morning, but at the moment, she couldn't care less. Nothing mattered except the exquisite feeling of her Doctor filling an ache she didn't even know could exist until he came along to fix it. His fingers dug into her backside, they both reeked of sweat and dirt, and she loved every second of it. He felt deliciously alive against her skin for the first time in so long and she could've cried with joy.

Her release surprised her and she nearly launched them off the wall with how tightly she clung to him as she rode out wave after wave. When he came it was just as violent and he fought to keep them upright as his knees threatened to buckle beneath them. He slid them carefully to the floor as their breathing slowed; both of them too filthy by now to mind the added dirt against their skin.

"I love you." Patrick muttered sweetly into the top of her head as he cradled her.

She kissed him long, and deep, and so differently from the frantic energy of before.

"I love you, Patrick."

They cuddled together in silence, fingers tracing soft circles on cooling skin.

"You're a horrid tease, you know?" he laughed.

She blushed.

"I don't mean to be." she apologized.

"I know you don't." he replied. "That's what makes it all the more torturous."

"Oh, you poor man." she gently mocked.

"I don't know how I survive having such a beautiful wife. I really deserve a medal."

She rolled her eyes and nuzzled against his chest.

"We should head back to our room before we're missed." she suggested half-heartedly, though she knew it was true - in their line of work, one never knew when an emergency would happen.

"I suppose you're right." he sighed.

They giggled at the sight of their stained, rumpled clothing as they tried to make themselves presentable. Hopefully, no one else was awake. It would be nearly impossible to hide their activities.

Shelagh took his hand and kissed it as he smiled and opened the supply closet door…

"Nurse Gilbert!" Shelagh gasped.

Patrick's jaw dropped at the sight of Barbara and her Reverend on the bench of the clinical room with their limbs entwined and faces flushed. At least no clothing was missing...for now...oh god, how long had they been there?

"Dr. Turner...Mrs. Turner…" she stammered, humiliated.

"We're so sorry," Tom fervently apologized, "we were, um, planning on the closet, but, well…" he trailed off and all four of them blushed deep red.

"The walls in our building are very thin." Shelagh blurted out. She really should've just stopped talking.

"We know…" Barbara murmured, embarrassed.

All four stood awkwardly, not at all sure how any of them was supposed to work with the others in the morning.

"Never happened?" Patrick asked sheepishly.

"Never happened." the other three quickly agreed.

Shelagh and Barbara quickly grabbed their respective halves and hurried in opposite directions.

* * *

9 down, 41 to go! Hope you enjoyed! ;P


	10. How Can you Still be Attractive?

**Prompt 10:** "How can you still look so attractive while crying?"

 **Summary:** Timeline alteration where the introduction of the pill takes place under Sister Ursula's regime and Shelagh doesn't yet know she's pregnant.

 **Disclaimer:** I own nothing. Any recognized lines are not mine and are property of Heidi Thomas and Neal Street Productions.

* * *

Shelagh was in her element. The trip to South Africa had thoroughly reinvigorated her and Patrick's drive and determination and now they were on their way to Nonnatus to do a presentation on the contraceptive pill. She knew Sister Julienne was hesitant to accept this particular medical progression, but they'd talked while on their missionary trip and the older nun was slowly becoming more accepting, much to Shelagh and Patrick's delight. Sister Ursula would be an entirely different matter, but armed with her materials and presentation board, Shelagh felt she was ready to take on the challenge.

They'd only briefly interacted with Sister Ursula at the clinic earlier that week, but the short encounter was enough to put both Turners on guard around the new Superior. Still, they'd been planning this presentation since before they left for South Africa and they were eager to get the rest of the Nonnatuns on board for the sake of their ever-growing patient list.

Their knock on the door was answered by an oddly enthusiastic Nurse Crane.

"Ah, Dr. and Mrs. Turner, come in, come in."

She ushered them inside and helped them swiftly to the sitting room.

"You're in a good mood today, Nurse Crane." Shelagh observed.

"I'm thrilled we're finally addressing the contraception issue." she explained. "I also cannot deny that I'm eager for any activity not ordained by our new dictator."

"That bad?" asked Patrick worriedly.

"She has Sister Julienne on rounds, she confiscated the television, and she essentially told Nurse Mount to ignore her patients outside of mandatory visits."

"What?" Shelagh gasped. "That goes against everything Nonnatus stands for, Sister Julienne can't possibly be alright with this."

"I don't think she has much of a choice from what it sounds like." Nurse Crane sighed.

"I take it she's less-than-thrilled with the prospect of this presentation, then?" Patrick hinted sarcastically.

"Honestly, she hasn't mentioned it, but I would keep my wits about me if I were you." Nurse crane warned.

"Hello Dr. Tuner, Mrs. Turner." Delia happily welcomed as she walked into the room with Patsy.

"Nurse Mount, Nurse Busby, it's lovely to see you." said Shelagh affectionately. "How are things?"

"Let's just say we're happy to have you lot back." Patsy remarked as she cast her eyes towards the hall.

Shelagh and Patrick glanced at each other and sighed. It was not only going to be a long night, it was going to be a long year. The couple watched the rest of the group file in over the next few minutes with similar looks on their faces: genuinely happy to see the Turners and interested in the presentation, but frustrated beyond belief at their circumstances. They also couldn't help but notice that all conversation ceased the moment Sister Ursula entered the room with a curt nod to Shelagh and Patrick.

"Right then, best get started." Shelagh began optimistically. "Doctor?" She gestured to Patrick to begin the presentation.

"Right, thank you all for taking the time. As you know, we're here to talk about the new contraceptive pill. In the United States, the pill was initially only approved as a treatment for menstrual disorders. But hundreds of thousands of American women are now taking it as a contraceptive and it has been declared to be 100% effective in preventing pregnancy." Patrick instructed.

"One of the best things about this method of contraception is that it's completely within the control of the woman." Shelagh continued.

"Some men won't like that." Patsy joked in some seriousness.

"They might like it more than the sheaths they refuse to use." Nurse Crane countered. "Are there any health risks so far?"

"There has been some correlation with blood clots, but the numbers aren't consistent yet." Patrick answered. "Overall, it's appeared extremely safe as long as the woman takes it daily."

"Daily?" Delia asked.

"Yes," Shelagh replied, "the pill has to be taken once a day, religiously."

"That's an odd choice of word, Mrs. Turner." Sister Ursula cut in. Every head turned towards her, expectantly.

"I beg your pardon, Sister?" Shelagh asked, confused.

"Your use of the word 'religiously'." she clarified. "As far as I can see, there isn't anything religious about this abomination."

The air tensed and it seemed everyone was glancing back and forth between the Turners and Sister Ursula to see who would strike next. Patrick was the first to break the silence.

"With all due respect, Sister, the majority in Poplar see this pill as a miracle, not an abomination."

"This pill encourages relations without the intent of procreation, does it not?" she countered.

"The pill itself doesn't encourage anything." Shelagh responded calmly. "And even if it did, where the law stands now in England, it's only available as a prescription to married women, so extramarital relations wouldn't be affected either way."

"I didn't say extramarital relations, Mrs. Turner." Sister Ursula corrected haughtily. "I said relations without the intent of procreation. That includes within a marriage. In the event a couple does not wish for children, we should be encouraging abstinence, not sheaths and pills."

"Sister Ursula," Nurse Crane spoke slowly so as to not lose her temper, "as we mentioned before, the men of Poplar already complain when their wives ask them to use sheaths. The idea that they would give up relations entirely is, well, ludicrous."

"People should take responsibility for their actions. The sacred bond of marriage is not an excuse for recreational activities, it merely gives them a purpose." Sister Ursula insisted. "It is our role to forgive sin and hope that the practitioners repent, not to give such urges free reign."

"It is our role to provide the best care we can for our patients." Patrick argued. He could see how the discussion was affecting Shelagh and he desperately wanted to get it back on track. "The families in Poplar have more mouths than they can feed and, frankly, that leads to far more pressing problems than whether or not married couples are having sexual relations. The pill won't change any of that, it will simply make life easier on families who cannot afford more children."

"Here, here!" Pasty and Nurse Crane cheered.

"Furthermore," Patrick continued, "I find it hard to believe that you could be so cold as to call any relations within a marriage 'sinful'. Couples where the woman has passed menopause certainly don't cease sexual relations simply because they can no longer conceive."

"Patrick…" Shelagh tried to warn, but it was too late.

"And perhaps your judgement is clouded by the circumstances of your own marriage, Dr. Turner." Sister Ursula said venomously.

Collective gasps rang throughout the room and Shelagh fought to shove the impending tears back down.

"How dare you?" Sister Julienne jumped to Shelagh's defense. "The Turners have been nothing but blessings to this community for over a decade."

"They have also been married for years and born no children." Sister Ursula pressed on, oblivious to the tears that were now making their way down a shaking Shelagh's face. "What other conclusion am I to draw?"

"It's no concern of yours." Patrick spat. "You have no right-"

Shelagh could hear no more. She bolted from the room and barely heard the concerned shouts at her retreat or the footsteps chasing after her. She didn't want to. She just wanted to run as far away from thoughts that hadn't plagued her in years.

They'd dealt with these fears the first time around. It took her weeks to be intimate again with Patrick after her surgery because of these very worries. Now, all of that was flooding back and she couldn't handle it, especially not in front of every single one of her colleagues.

Without realizing it, she ran straight into the chapel and fell to her knees as she sobbed. Sister Julienne followed quickly behind her.

"Oh, my dear girl." Sister Julienne knelt beside her and pulled her into her arms. "I'm so sorry, I should've stopped her sooner."

"How can you look at me?" Shelagh cried. "After what she said, how can you not judge me?"

"I don't judge you or your marriage, Shelagh." Sister Julienne promised. "No more than I ever judged you for leaving your vows."

"But-"

"No." Sister Julienne insisted. "I may never understand the love between a husband and wife, but I've watched you and Patrick for some time now and I can say without a doubt that your marriage is truly sacred."

"We've sinned." Shelagh whimpered.

"I don't believe you have, my dear. Some laws are written, and some, I believe, are in the eye of the beholder."

"Shelagh!" Patrick called out as he rounded the corner to the chapel.

"She's in here." Sister Julienne called back.

Patrick ran to the two of them and Sister Julienne gently passed Shelagh from her own arms to Patrick's.

"It's no comfort right now, I know," said Sister Julienne, "but I shall be ringing the mother house in the morning."

"Thank you, Sister. It means more than you think." Patrick assured.

Sister Julienne left the couple in the chapel with a small prayer for their happiness.

"Shelagh, I'm so sorry, I don't know what to say." Patrick tried to comfort her. "I could never have imagined-"

"It's not your fault, Patrick." Shelagh sniffled. "You aren't the infertile one."

"Hey, stop that." he turned her face to look at him. "You don't deserve that, Shelagh, and you know it. Sister Ursula is the only one to blame right now."

"I'm sorry I ran." She apologized.

"You don't have to apologize, love. If I wasn't so furious, I would've done the same." He gently stroked her hair as her breathing slowed and marveled at how quickly she was able to process and put herself together.

"How can you still look so attractive while crying?" He joked. Her smile was worth it.

"I look a mess, dear." she insisted.

"Not even close," he promised, "you're always gorgeous, even when you're covered in blood and amniotic fluid."

"Such a romantic." Shelagh giggled softly.

They sat entwined on the chapel floor a while longer, simply breathing in the other's company until Shelagh fell asleep in his lap.

That was how Sister Julienne found them later on her way to compline and against Sister Ursula's preferences, she helped Patrick move Shelagh to a spare room and let the emotionally exhausted couple stay the night under the roof she was determined would always accept them.

* * *

10 down, 40 to go! I'm on a roll. :D


	11. I Missed Something, Didn't I?

**Prompt 11:** "I missed something, didn't I?"

 **Summary:** Timothy has a very important question for Shelagh over tea with the Nonnatuns.

 **A/N:** Takes place in a Season 3 AU where Shelagh gets pregnant shortly after she and Patrick marry. Also according to google, half-term would be in May! The things we research for fic...

 **A/N 2:** Thank you all so, so much for your enthusiastic responses to this series! It's incredibly motivational and I'm trying to write as much as possible while I'm in tech rehearsal because as soon as my show starts in a couple weeks, I'm going to no longer be a human until the new year. But yay artistic employment!

 **Disclaimer:** I own nothing.

* * *

The May sun beamed down on a beautiful Poplar spring day as Shelagh and Timothy Turner made their way to Nonnatus House. Timothy's normally dreaded half-term had taken an extreme turn for the better since Shelagh joined their family two months prior. Instead of cleaning equipment at his father's surgery, Timothy had spent the morning in the yard with his new Mum, working on strengthening his legs in his calipers and indulging in freshly made biscuits. Overall, he had to say life in general was much better with Shelagh in it. He got home cooked meals, he didn't have to stay home alone, and there was always someone to pick him up from school (although his dad had definitely improved on the latter since his bout with polio).

The most exciting change to his young life was that in seven months, he was going to get a new baby brother or sister. His mum and dad had told him over dinner last night and he knew Shelagh was going to tell the rest of Nonnatus today, which was good, because he really didn't want to keep it a secret. The rest of his friends at school all talked about their siblings and he always felt left out, but now he wouldn't have to! He would have a brand new friend that he could teach to like all the things he liked. Plus, he had tons of experience from looking after his dad after his birth mum died and a baby had to be easier than dad.

Still, he had lots of questions. There were many practicalities to be considered.

"Mum, when the baby comes, where will it sleep?"

Shelagh smiled down at him and slowed her pace as she realized her excited mood might be pushing him a little too fast down the road.

"Well, for a little while, the baby will stay with your father and I in our room." She explained.

"What about after that?" He asked. His face paled. "I won't have to give up my room, right?"

Shelagh laughed.

"No of course not, Timothy dearest." She promised. "Although you might have to share for a wee bit. Would that be alright?"

"That'd be smashing!" He declared. "It'll be like having a sleepover all the time!"

Shelagh smiled to herself. Somehow, she didn't think Timothy fully understood that the baby needed to grow before he could play with it, but for now, she was content to let him dream. It was going to be an interesting seven months with such an inquisitive son, but she was delighted. She was married to the man she loved, she adored his son who was now completely hers in all but blood, and now she was expecting a child she'd desperately prayed for. Everything was finally falling into place. Granted, she was slightly nervous about telling her former Sisters and co-workers that she'd gotten pregnant nearly as soon as she was married, but she knew they would be thrilled about the baby and that was all that mattered. Speaking of which, they were nearly at Nonnatus…

"Now, Timothy, remember-"

"I know, I know." He sassed. "No talking about the baby until you tell everyone first."

"Less cheek, but yes, thank you." She grinned.

The two gleefully climbed the steps and knocked on the door. Trixie answered and gratefully took one of the picnic baskets Shelagh had prepared.

"I can't tell you how excited we are that it's your turn to bring lunch." She whispered conspiratorially.

"Oh dear, I take it Chummy hasn't improved?" Shelagh sighed.

"Sandwich meats and ketchup bottles in a pram." Trixie giggled. "I think she's just as relieved as we are to add you to the lunch rotation."

"I'm happy to help." Shelagh replied earnestly. "I miss you all so very much."

"We miss you too, but we know you have very important matters to attend to now." Trixie turned her attention to Timothy. "How is Master Turner, today?"

"Mum let me out of the house, so I think it's a good day." He quipped with a sly smile.

"Timothy!" Shelagh admonished.

"You know you sound exactly like dad when you do that? It's spooky." He observed.

Shelagh blushed.

"Spending too much time with Dr. Turner, Shelagh?" Trixie teased.

" _If you only knew…"_ Shelagh thought to herself. " _Well, I guess you will soon enough._ "

Lunch was an energetic affair. Since Shelagh's reconciliation with Nonnatus, she hadn't been able to spend as much time as she would've liked with her old family outside of clinic and she treasured these moments. Timothy kept glancing over at her, waiting for her to make her announcement, though, so she supposed she should just get it over with.

"Oh Shelagh, it is always so lovely to see you. I do wish you come around more often." Sister Julienne implored.

" _Perfect."_ thought Shelagh. "Actually, you might be seeing quite a bit more of me...over the next seven months…"

The hundred watt smile and the hand on her stomach that accompanied her statement were enough to confirm the news and the table exploded in excitement.

"How long have you known?" squealed Jenny.

"Just a week or so." Shelagh beamed. "We told Timothy last night."

"You won't find a better older brother." Sister Evangelina praised. She always had a soft spot for the Turner boy.

"You two certainly didn't waste any time, did you?" Teased Trixie. Shelagh blushed into the roots of her hair. Luckily, Timothy had more questions to change the subject.

"Mum?"

"Yes, Tim?" Shelagh eagerly asked.

"When you have the baby, does one of the midwives come? Or since you're a midwife, do you do it?"

The table smiled.

"No, dear, one of them would come help." Shelagh explained. "It's quite a different thing to have my own baby than it is to help someone else."

"I'll say." Chummy agreed. "Completely different."

"Oh." Tim seemed to ponder for a moment. "Can I ask another question?"

"Of course you can, you're at a table full of knowledge in this department." Sister Evangelina joked.

"The baby grows in your stomach, right?" Tim asked.

"Yes, but you know that." Shelagh answered, now slightly concerned with where this line of questioning was leading.

"Right." Tim confirmed. "But, how does it get there to start growing? Dad never told me that part."

The Sisters went silent and the nurses looked like they might die trying to not to laugh.

"Oh, he didn't, um, well, you see..." Shelagh stammered.

"You can't say the stork, Shelagh, he's the GP's son." Trixie nearly cackled.

"Not helping, Nurse Franklin." Shelagh glared. Jenny, Cynthia, and Chummy nearly choked on their water. Shelagh took a deep breath and turned to Timothy who was even further confused by the reactions to his question. "You see, Tim, um, when a Mum and Dad love each other very much, they, um-"

"Give me strength." Sister Evangelina muttered into her hands.

"-they have a special hug that makes the baby." Shelagh lamely finished.

"Ew, is that why you and dad kiss all the time? Mushy stuff's gross." Tim sighed.

The nurses were practically purple by now and Shelagh wanted to sink into the floor.

"Oh! Does that mean no more mushy stuff once the baby gets here?" Tim asked excitedly. "That'd be great. It's bad enough around me, but you can't make a baby watch that."

"Timothy Turner, I think that's enough questioning for today." Shelagh scolded as gently as she could.

"The boy has an inquisitive mind and that should be encouraged." Sister Monica Joan said with a twinkle in her eye. "Come, young Turner, we shall use our combined intelligence to find the coconut cream."

Timothy eagerly followed Sister Monica Joan into the kitchen on the hunt for dessert and the rest of the table burst into hysterics.

"We're so sorry, Shelagh," Trixie laughed, "it was just too funny."

"I'll remind you of that down the road when it's your own child." Shelagh warned with a smile. "I can't believe Patrick never told him."

"Well it's not exactly a conversation one wants to have." Cynthia remarked, still giggling.

"Although with you already two months pregnant, it's certainly a conversation he's _adept_ at having." Trixie teased.

"Nurse Franklin!" Sister Julienne chided. "Remember, your company."

"Sorry, Sister Julienne." Trixie apologized, though Shelagh could tell she wasn't truly sorry at all.

The sound of the front door opening and hurried footsteps drew the attention of the group and they turned to see Patrick running in with his medical bag.

"Sorry I'm late." He apologized, as always.

The entire table looked from Dr. Turner to each other and promptly burst into tears of laughter.

Patrick sighed.

"I missed something, didn't I?"

* * *

11 down, 39 to go!


	12. You Don't Like Disney Movies!

**Prompt 12:** "I can't believe you don't like Disney movies."

 **Summary:** Modern AU (for Ginchy because she's been so amazingly supportive!) where Shelagh goes out a date with both of her boys. Tim is nine, so basically this is late Season 2, but set in 1991.

 **A/N:** The movie choice is all me because it's my favorite Disney movie and it came out the year I was born, so I feel bound to it. :P This is pure fluff. Like so fluffy you might have to call Christopher for cavity help.

 **Disclaimer:** I own nothing relating to Call the Midwife or Disney Inc.

* * *

"Tim!" Patrick called out as he burst into the flat. "Timothy, where are you? Tim!"

"I'm right here, dad." Timothy sighed from his place on the couch with his Gameboy not two feet from his frazzled father.

"Oh, yes, you are, sorry." Patrick rattled.

"Dad, is everything okay?" Tim asked skeptically.

"Fine, it's all rather, um, fine. Listen, Tim, you like Nurse Mannion right?" Patrick asked hesitantly as he sat on the couch next to his son. His hands were shaking and he hoped Tim didn't notice. He'd been dating (was that even the right word for nearly 10 years of growing affection suddenly turned to romance?) Shelagh Mannion for two months now and he felt like a bit of a prick for not telling Tim until now, but he and Shelagh wanted to find their footing first. She'd been a part of both their lives for so long and he didn't want to risk hurting Tim if things didn't work out. The past two months, however, had been nothing short of miraculous and he felt it was time for a man-to-man chat.

"Yeah, she's cool." Tim said with a smile. "She made those cupcakes for scouts! They were way better than yours."

"Well thank you, son." Patrick shook his head. "Her cupcakes aside, um, how would you feel about seeing her more often?"

"How come?" Tim asked.

"How come?" Patrick repeated, confused.

"Yeah, how come we'd be seeing her more often?" Tim pressed. Patrick cursed his own parenting. Tim was nothing if not full of questions and detail analysis and somehow he felt fully responsible for that as a head doctor at the Royal. His late wife, bless her tried valiantly to level their son's intellectual cheek with her unending empathy and social grace, but it didn't stick.

"Well, you see, it's like this…" Patrick tried, suddenly nervous. "...Nurse Mannion and I are dating."

There was probably a much more delicate way to say that, but the words just fell out of him and now all he could do was wait for a response.

"Oh." said Tim.

Patrick looked up in horror. 'Oh' didn't seem to bode well for his future plans.

"'Oh' like you're surprised, but happy or 'Oh' like you're never going to speak to me again?" Patrick questioned.

"'Oh' like…" Tim pondered for a moment and Patrick was pretty sure he could feel his heart about to give way until Tim grinned. "Does that mean I get double presents at Christmas if you two get married?"

Patrick laughed in relief and amusement.

"I think that's a long ways off, but I think it might be possible if you play your cards right." said Patrick with a ruffle of Tim's hair. "Well, now we got that bit out of the way, what would you say to going to the movies with Shelagh and I on Saturday?"

"Don't you take girls to the movies on dates?" Tim snarked. "No offense, dad, but I don't want to see you on a date."

Patrick rolled his eyes before he could remember he was trying not to teach Tim that habit.

"Yes, normally, one does take a woman to the movies on a date, but Shelagh isn't just dating me, she's also dating you in way." Patrick explained.

"Me?" Tim asked with a disgusted grimace.

"Not in the same way, obviously," Patrick corrected, "but if all keeps going as it is, I'd very much like to add Shelagh to our family one day and I only want to do that if you're okay with it."

"So, it's like a test? To see if I like Nurse Mannion and you together?" Tim proposed.

"That makes it sound rather dire, but yes, if you like." said Patrick.

"Do I get to pick the movie?" Tim asked excitedly.

"Of course you do." Patrick readily agreed.

* * *

"Oh, Shelagh, Doctor Turner wants to see you in his office when you have a moment." Nurse Franklin whispered as they passed between patients. Shelagh blushed at the wink Trixie sent her - perhaps she and Patrick weren't being as subtle as they thought…

She quickly finished up her notes on Ms. Robins and walked as quickly as she could without drawing attention to one Doctor P. Turner's office.

"Come in." He called out as she knocked. He must've known she'd be quick, he sounded far too excited at the interruption.

"I think Nurse Franklin knows about us." Shelagh remarked as she shut the door and pulled the blinds. "She winked at me when she delivered your message."

"Are you alright with her knowing?" He asked as he got up to kiss her hello. He would never tire of the relaxed look that took over her normally-stressed face after they kissed.

"I suppose so." Shelagh replied. "I mean, I suppose everyone will find out eventually. If nothing else, at least it'll get the other nurses off my back about my dwindling love life. Did you know Jenny asked if I was considering becoming a nun last week?"

"She didn't!" Patrick gasped.

"She meant it in good fun; they all do." Shelagh smiled. "To be fair, I haven't really dated since John left and that was five years ago."

"Well, I'm grateful you broke your pattern." He said sincerely. Shelagh smiled and moved to sit on his desk. She could get used to the giddiness of a new relationship.

"I told Tim last night." Patrick admitted.

"And?" she asked.

"And he wants to know when we're getting married and if it means he gets double Christmas presents." Patrick chuckled.

"Well he certainly has his priorities in order." Shelagh giggled. "I'm glad he didn't start throwing things."

"He adores you, Shelagh, as do I." Shelagh blushed under the compliment. "So much so, in fact," Patrick continued, "that we'd like you to come with us to the moviesonSaturdaywillyoucomeitwouldmeansomuchtobothofus?"

"What was that?" Shelagh asked with a knowing smile. Patrick took a breath. Why was this so hard?

"Will you come to the movies with Tim and me on Saturday?" He asked hopefully.

"Of course I will!" Shelagh agreed excitedly.

"Good," Patrick let out a breath of relief, "because I already asked Tim and he's really looking forward."

"I take it that means the boy picks the movie?" Shelagh asked knowingly.

"Welcome to the world of parenting." Patrick quipped. "It'll be fine though. I looked at the listings and the only one I think he'd want to see is the new Disney film, you know Beauty and the Beast? Or at least I'm assuming he would. He likes the other Disney films, even if he pretends to hate the princess movies to his friends, so I'm banking he'll ask me to take him."

"Oh, that sounds nice." said Shelagh.

"Great, so it's a date then?" Patrick asked as he snuck his fingers up her leg to play with the edge of her skirt. She hated him for that. He was so bloody charming.

"It's a date." she wiggled out of his grasp and blew him a kiss on the way out the door.

* * *

"Can we get popcorn _and_ chocolate?" Tim asked as the smiling trio entered the cinema.

"Why don't you ask Shelagh what she wants and we'll go from there?" Patrick suggested. Truth was, he'd by the entire concessions stand if the two of them wanted it, but he wanted Tim to get used to including Shelagh in decisions.

"Can we get popcorn and chocolate, Nurse Mannion?"

Shelagh laughed at Patrick's sigh. That wasn't exactly what he meant.

"I think popcorn and chocolate sound wonderful." Shelagh replied. "And you can call me Shelagh outside of the hospital, you know?"

"Okay!" Tim's smile grew. So far, he really liked this whole dad-dating-Shelagh-thing. "Shelagh?" Tim asked as they stood on line for their popcorn _and_ chocolate. "What's your favorite Disney movie?"

"Hmm?"

"Your favorite Disney movie!" Tim repeated. "Mine's Peter Pan. Dad says his favorite is also Peter Pan because I like it, but he always cries during Fox and the Hound, so I think it's that one."

"Tim!" Patrick shouted a little louder than he intended. Shelagh just beamed. So much ammunition for later on.

"What's yours?" Tim asked again, oblivious to his father's embarrassment.

"Um, you might not like my answer." Shelagh stalled. "I don't really like Disney movies..."

Patrick and Tim's jaws both dropped.

"You don't like Disney movies?!" They gasped in unison.

"I can't believe you don't like Disney movies, Shelagh, why didn't you tell me, we could've done something else." Patrick irrationally panicked.

"Well, it's not that I don't like them necessarily." she tried to defend herself. "It's just, I've never seen one."

"WHAT?" Tim's shocked exclamation drew the attention of everyone else in line prompting an extremely awkward apologetic smile from Patrick to the vendor and a sheepish grin from Tim.

"Sorry, but how is that possible?" Tim asked completely baffled.

"I don't know," Shelagh shrugged, "my parents never took us to see any when I was little and then once I was older, I suppose I didn't care anymore." She gazed teasingly at Patrick, "I don't have a child as an excuse to go see them."

"Well now you do." Tim said innocently as he took her hand in his. Shelagh and Patrick melted at the sincerity in his voice. He meant what he said and Patrick's heart burst knowing Tim honestly wouldn't mind going to the movies with just Shelagh in the future.

"Then I guess you'll have to educate me, won't you." she smiled down at Tim.

When the final credits rolled, both boys were gleefully satisfied to see Shelagh wiping her eyes. It was the first of many Disney nights to come.

* * *

12 down, 38 to go! Hope you enjoy!


	13. I Can't Breathe

**Prompt 13:** "I can't breathe."

 **Summary:** An alternate way of discovering Sister Bernadette has TB. Potential TW: thinking about death.

 **A/N:** Well the last two were cute, so we were due for some angst. I can 100% promise that I will never ever kill either half of this beautiful OTP because I couldn't bear to write that, but anything else is pretty much fair game.

 **Disclaimer:** I own nothing.

* * *

Her lungs ached as she hurried to the Parish Hall kitchen. Perhaps she was coming down with something? She'd been finding it harder and harder to cycle over the past couple of weeks and running the three legged race with Timothy Turner hadn't helped one bit. Neither, she supposed, did the sudden reappearance of his father who seemed to bring with him his own brand of breathlessness.

She couldn't think about that now.

Dr. Turner was there to see his son win the race and now the two of them could go enjoy the Fete together and she could wash her hand and retreat to back to Nonnatus where no one would see the utter shame she felt at every flutter of her heart.

"Would you like me to take a look at that?" he asked softly.

Or not.

His voice washed over her, more soothing that the cold water she'd been running her cut under. She knew she should say no. She knew - they both knew - that he didn't need to be here in a medical capacity. It was a simple cut. She could clean and bandage an injury like this in her sleep and he knew it, so why was he here?

Don't go down that road.

"Yes." she replied without her brain's permission.

This was madness. She should have told him to go. She should have told him that she was pretty sure Timothy also suffered a scrape when they fell and he should be tending to his son, but she couldn't say anything. The air felt like it was closing in around them as he stepped closer and reached out for her hand. Her stomach felt like it was splitting in two. This was everything she'd dreamed of when she couldn't stop herself and everything she knew she would never have and the overwhelming feel of something so simple as the touch of his hand had her blood pounding rapidly through her body as she fought both the instinct to run and the instinct to fall into his arms.

When he lowered his head towards her hand, it didn't even occur to her that he might kiss her until she felt his lips on her skin and suddenly it was too much. Everything was too much and her lungs burned and her heart ached and her legs shook.

"I can't breathe." she whispered.

"I can't either." he admitted as he met her eyes and dared to search for the same feelings he felt day after day.

"No, Doctor Turner, I can't breathe." she stammered before everything went black.

Patrick felt every morsel of medical knowledge threaten to leave his head in pure panic as he haphazardly caught the woman in front of him and lowered her the floor.

"Sister Bernadette." he tried to get through to her in vain. "Sister Bernadette!"

When she still didn't respond, he finally felt the emergency part of his brain kick in. Praying to a God he wasn't sure he believed in for forgiveness, he swiftly removed her cap and wimple to get the restricting band off her neck. He felt his entire body surge with love at the long-yearned-for sight of her soft blonde hair, but now was not the time. He was searching for the clasps to the top of her habit so he could get his stethoscope anywhere useful when he heard someone else come into the hall.

"Help! I need help!" he called out desperately.

The footsteps hurried their pace and he could've died with relief as Sister Julienne rounded the corner.

"Sister Bernadette!" Sister Julienne gasped at the sight of the young woman unconscious on the floor and the thoroughly distraught doctor.

"She said she couldn't breathe and she collapsed." he felt his voice breaking with worry. "I can't…"

"Here, let me." Sister Julienne forced herself to be calm as she gently removed Patrick's hands from their death grip on Sister Bernadette's habit and undid the clasps she knew far better than he did. She hadn't seen Patrick Turner look at anyone like that since Marianne and suddenly her Sister's sadness over the recent weeks began to make sense.

"Doctor Turner." Sister Julienne spoke quietly, but firmly as she tried to reach the man slowly retreating into in terror. "Your patient needs you."

His eyes met hers and the understanding in them broke through the petrifying thought that she might not be alright and into the idea that he could still help her. With shaking hands, Patrick placed the stethoscope against her chest. The immediate relief that she was alive was quickly drowned by the other sound echoing in his ears.

Crackles.

No, no, no, this wasn't happening.

He nearly ripped her habit with how fast he moved the cool metal to the other side of her chest.

Both sides.

Crackles on both sides.

Probable Tuberculosis.

"Doctor Turner, what's wrong?" Sister Julienne couldn't help but let her own worry creep into her voice.

"She needs an ambulance." He nearly whimpered. "To the London. She needs an x-ray."

Sister Julienne thankfully understood that he couldn't manage anymore than that.

"I'll call right away." she ran from the hall to the phone box.

With nothing to do but wait, Patrick cradled her head into his lap and stopped fighting the building tears of grief.

"I'm sorry." he cried. "I'm so sorry for everything. I'm sorry for how I feel, I'm sorry if I scared you, I'm sorry I didn't realize you were ill sooner." He gently rocked as he let himself take her hand in his. He needed to feel her pulse. He needed to know she was at least here with him now. He thought he was dreaming when he felt her fingers squeeze back against his own.

"Sister?" he asked in desperate hope.

"Doctor Turner?" she mumbled so quietly he almost didn't hear it.

"I'm here. I'm here." he wasn't even sure if she wanted him there, but by God he was not going to leave her.

"Don't...go…" she whispered as she fell back into unconsciousness.

He had no intention of going anywhere.

"Doctor, the ambulance is here!" Sister Julienne called out as she ran into the hall with the paramedics.

"Sir, we need you to step aside." One of the young medics tried to ease her off his lap so they could get her onto the stretcher. He was reluctant to let go, but her health was more important that his own comfort.

"I can't leave her." he said to himself more than anyone else, but Sister Julienne heard him.

"Go with her to the hospital." she urged.

"Sister, I-" he tried to explain as he realized who he was talking to.

"Go, Patrick." she insisted. He stopped fighting at the use of his given name. "We can discuss...everything else later."

Sister Julienne watched two of her dear friends leaving the hall, both in dire straights, and prayed harder than she could ever remember that the Lord had a purpose for all things.

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13 down, 37 to go! Hope you enjoy!


	14. We'll Get Through This

**Prompt 14:** "We'll get through this, I promise."

 **Summary** : Doctor Turner is helping in the Leopold Institute during the bomb scare when Alan Bridges has his PTSD attack. TW: PTSD, war-related flashbacks, violence.

 **A/N:** There was way too much happening in this episode for this to have ever occurred, but I did think it was strange that Dr. Turner was never seen at the Leopold institute considering that all of Poplar was crammed in there and they definitely needed medical assistance in several instances. This was also born from thinking about Alan Bridges' plot line and about how fear can be conquered through dire circumstances and love. I think Shelagh during this time grew in a similar way through Timothy's polio crisis and being forced to face her fears and I wondered what would've happened if it had been Patrick with the crisis instead. Anyway, enough of that, on with the fic!

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Patrick Turner was no longer sure if the people of Poplar actually needed more medical attention than normal or if they were simply finding new and desperate ways to pass the time by requesting to be looked over. Either way, he was exhausted and all he wanted was to run back to his flat and curl up on the couch with Shelagh for a few minutes before dinner. He sighed as yet another hand gently tapped him on the shoulder and berated himself for the momentary lapse in selflessness. He was one of the lucky few who had not been evacuated, he should be thankful he would get to go home tonight at all.

"How can I help you Mrs. Mullins?" he asked, forcing himself to be patient.

"Can you take a look at my James, Doctor?" she asked. "He was running round with the other boys earlier and he fell."

A small face peeked out from behind his mother and Patrick smiled. At least this patient was young enough to not supplement their check up with nosy questions about his upcoming marriage.

"Hello, young man. I hear you had a bit of a scrape?" he asked as he bent down to the boy's level.

"It wasn't my fault." James insisted. "Jack pushed me."

Patrick laughed.

"Well, I'm sure he didn't mean it. Here, hop up on the table and let's have a look at you."

James climbed up onto the table with little regard for his bleeding knee, but Patrick wasn't fazed. Grazed knees were small pennies with a young son of his own. He had to admire James' bravado, though. A small flinch at the first touch of the alcohol swab, but no other fuss. Patrick wryly suspected that was due more to a desire to go back out and play than actual lack of pain, but he was a boy once too and who was he to judge?

"All set, James. Good as new!" he assessed.

"Thanks, Doctor Turner!" James hopped off the table and ran before his mother could tell him to sit down and he shook his head. Some days, he felt called to medicine for the huge breakthroughs and medical advancements, but some days, like today, he felt pure joy in being able to turn a child's day around. Poplar was a mess and he was involved in the biggest gossip in years, but he could fix a scraped knee. That in and of itself was comforting.

He was brought out of his happy pondering by a slamming door and a man's screams.

The room turned as Alan Bridges ran hollering through the room, blood falling from his hand, and into the side pool hall.

Somewhere, Nurse Franklin and Nurse Miller were calling his name, but he couldn't hear them. Alan's voice echoed through his head and made his blood run cold. He hadn't heard a man scream like that in over ten years. He'd seen patients through every manner of malady since leaving the service, but none of them - not even mothers in debilitating labor - sounded like that.

"Doctor Turner!" Nurse Miller called out, now close enough that he couldn't ignore her. "Come quickly!"

It was force of habit that sent him following after the worried nurse. He could hear Alan's screams getting louder and louder as they raced down the hallway, footsteps echoing on the tile. He yelled in his head to pull it together. This wasn't the war. This wasn't thousands of bodies before him he couldn't revive. This wasn't another day of death certificates. This was one man. One patient. One soldier who needed his help. Cynthia opened the door and he forced himself to look past the blood smear and search for the source of the man's crying and Nurse Franklin's attempts at calming it.

He found them half way into the room. Trixie knelt beside one of the pool tables, clearly having followed the trail of blood as well as Alan's voice. He listened to her for a moment. "It's okay.", "you're safe." She was doing everything right, but he knew Alan couldn't hear her. Not now. Not like this. He eased himself onto the floor beside her and Alan turned to look at him.

His face went white. Patrick couldn't see Alan Bridges looking back at him. All he saw was the face of another broken man in the mirror from over ten years ago.

He couldn't do this. He couldn't help him, not when his own ghosts were clearly not as banished as he thought.

Ignoring Trixie and Cynthia's concern, he fled the room and ran to the nearby lav before emptying his stomach into the sink. The tap water was freezing as he washed the basin and wiped his face, but he could barely feel it. How could he go back out there? No one knew about Northfield and his utter inability to cope after the war, not even Marianne. How could he face his colleagues, God, how could he face Shelagh? She would never agree to marry him now. Marrying a man far older than her was risky enough, she would never marry someone this broken as well.

The knocks on the bathroom door banged through his head like gunshots.

"Doctor Turner?" Cynthia called out. "It's Nurse Miller, are you alright?"

"I'm fine." he forced out. "Go see to Mr. Bridges."

"Nurse Franklin's with him now." Cynthia informed. "Are you sure everything's okay?"

No response.

"Doctor Turner?" she tried again.

"See to your patient, Nurse Miller." he snapped.

" _I'm trying."_ she thought, but knew better than to voice the thought. Instead, bracing herself, she ran out to the nearest telephone box.

Cynthia was expecting either Ms. Penny or Timothy to pick up the phone at Kennilworth, so she was pleasantly relieved when the woman she actually wanted to reach answered her with a sweet "Doctor Turner's residence."

"Shelagh, thank goodness." Cynthia sighed. "Can you come to the Leopold Institute as soon as possible?"

"Is everything alright?" Shelagh asked nervously. "I don't think I'm particularly welcome right now."

"What are you talking about, 'not welcome'?" Cynthia asked. "We miss you terribly."

"You do?" Shelagh asked.

"Of course we do." Cynthia assured. "Unfortunately, we don't just need your company. It's...it's Doctor Turner."

"What?" Shelagh gasped.

"I'm not sure what happened, but well," Cynthia paused, suddenly conscious of how far she was sticking her foot out, "he seems to have had a panic attack of sorts? He won't speak to anyone and I'm quite worried. I don't know if it was the right thing to call you and I'm sorry if I overstepped-"

"You didn't overstep, Cynthia." Shelagh said determinedly. "I'll be there as soon as I can."

Shelagh hung up the phone and grabbed her coat. The institute wasn't far, she could be there in under ten minutes if she ran. She wasn't even sure what she was going to do when she got there, but the thought of Patrick in pain was unbearable and anything she could do was more important than any shame she would feel at the stares she was bound to receive.

The winter air burned her lungs and she had the fleeting thought that Patrick would be furious if he knew she'd been running in the cold during her convalescence, but she needed to make sure he was okay.

She reached the center in minutes and hurried up the stairs to find Cynthia.

"Shelagh!" Cynthia was mercifully waiting for her and immediately called her over. "Down this way!"

"What on earth is going on now?" Sister Evangelina barked.

"I'll tell you in a moment Sister." Cynthia promised before she ran off with an every more worried Shelagh.

The two women moved quickly to the lav and Cynthia indicated the door.

"I'll leave you two alone." she spoke softly, paused, and then, "I'm so glad to see you."

Shelagh smiled.

"Thank you." she nearly cried. "For everything."

Cynthia reached out and squeezed her hand and then made her way back to find Trixie and Alan.

Shelagh stared at the door for a moment. When she'd first heard Patrick was in trouble, she didn't pause at all. She knew exactly what she was supposed to do when she left the house, but now, faced with the prospect of possibly not being able to help him, she faltered slightly. Cynthia didn't have any clue as to what happened, so she felt somewhat blind, but she'd seen panic attacks (and had her own) before. ' _Better to simply charge forward'_ , though, she heard Sister Evangelina say in her head.

She gently knocked on the door.

No answer.

Shelagh slowly pushed the door open a crack.

"Patrick?" she softly called. "Patrick it's me."

Still no answer.

"I'm coming in." she warned just as sweetly before opening the door enough to squeeze quickly through and close it behind her. The only light in the room came from the tattered shutters over the window, but maybe that was for the best for now.

"Oh, Patrick." she sighed sadly. The love of her life was sitting on the cold floor with his knees to his chest. His eyes were shut tight, as though he could will away whatever images were tormenting him. She didn't want to scare him, so she sat down next to him and let him adjust to her being there.

She wasn't sure, but she could swear she saw him slightly relax as she got closer.

"Patrick, dearest?" she asked as delicately as she could. "Can you hear me?"

After a moment, he hesitatingly opened his eyes.

"Shelagh?" he asked hoarsely. "Are you here?"

She could feel her heart split.

"I'm here." she promised. "I will always be here."

He slowly unclenched his hand from his knee and reached out to touch her face. The normally-romantic gesture shook her. He wasn't caressing her face like when they kissed, he was checking to see if he was imagining her. She moved her own hand up to hold his against her cheek.

"I love you." she whispered. It was the first time she'd ever said it outloud, but she meant it with her entire being.

Her admission washed over him and warmed his blood beneath her hands.

"I'm sorry." he apologized. "Oh, Shelagh, I'm so sorry." he turned away from her to hide the tears forming in his eyes, but she wouldn't let him.

"You don't have to apologize, Patrick." she pulled him into her arms, aware she was crying herself now. "Can you tell me what happened?"

"I don't know." he shook his head. "I thought I had it under control."

"Had what under control?" she urged.

"I can't tell you, I can't." he insisted.

"Patrick, please, let me help you." she begged.

"No, Shelagh, you'll leave!" he spat as he wrenched himself out of her arms.

"How can you say that?" she asked in disbelief. "How could you ever think that?"

"You deserve better." he fought.

"There is no one better." she argued. "You're the only thing I've cared about for so long, you and Timothy, how could you possibly think that anything you say would make me leave you?" she shouted.

This wasn't helping.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have shouted." she apologized. "Or pushed." she admitted. "I'm not very good at this. I see you in pain and I just want to make it better and I don't know how and I'm sorry, I'm so, so sorry."

They stood in silence for a moment. Shelagh was about to turn to leave in defeat when his voice stopped her.

"I didn't handle the war...well." he whispered. "I thought all that was behind me, but seeing Alan Bridges today, I...I'm still not handling it well. I think that's all I can manage for today."

Shelagh took his hand and kissed his knuckles as he'd done when he proposed. Hadn't she said the same to Sister Julienne recently?

"You've made a start." she soothed. "And you don't have to tell me anything else if you don't want to, but...I want you to know that I won't run if you do."

"I want to believe that." he solemnly admitted.

"We'll get through this, I promise."

It was a promise she knew neither of them could keep, but maybe if they kept trying, it wouldn't matter one day.

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14 down, 36 to go!


	15. Is That My Shirt?

**Prompt 15:** Is that my shirt?"

 **Summary:** Season 7 speculative Teddy Turner fluff.

 **A/N:** I'm super making up where doors and furniture are in this new house because how even do any of these rooms connect?

 **Disclaimer:** I own nothing!

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"Shelagh, we'll be fine, I promise." Patrick attempted for the fifth time as his wife readjusted Teddy's cot once again. Poor Teddy, meanwhile, was fussing in his father's arms, not at all pleased with being removed from his bed even if it was in the name of additional blankets. "Darling, you'll only be gone a couple of hours and he'll probably just sleep through it."

"What if he needs me, Patrick?" she asked worriedly. "What if he gets hungry? What if he's too cold? What if the stove catches fire? What if-"

"Shelagh. Shelagh, stop." Patrick said firmly. "You fed him just a little while ago and we have formula in the pantry, I don't see how he could possibly be cold with (he counted) five blankets in his cot, and unless Teddy has suddenly developed a penchant for cooking, I don't believe either of us will be going anywhere near the kitchen, let alone the stove."

"But I'm his mother." she protested.

"And I'm his father." Patrick countered, surprisingly not hurt at her implication. He'd gone through this dance when Tim was born. With Angela, they'd immediately felt like a team and while Shelagh loved her daughter with her entire soul, she didn't have to deal with the insanity of post-natal hormones, so she was more easily amenable to leaving Angela with Patrick now and then. Teddy, however, was her miracle baby boy. Her boy that she still couldn't always believe wouldn't fade away into a distant dream. "Love, you have to leave him sometime. It's been two months since you've taken a moment for yourself. Go have coffee with Nurse Franklin and talk about...well whatever it is you two talk about when I'm not with you."

"It'll be about your snoring if you don't hand him over." she threatened lovingly. Patrick willingly relinquished the squirming baby knowing that if she had rediscovered her sense of humor, she was likely on her way to agreeing to go.

Shelagh cuddled Teddy tightly to her and grinned when he immediately stopped fussing.

"That's not fair. I don't know how you do that." Patrick muttered. Teddy loved his father and would gladly cuddle and laugh with him, but Patrick still hadn't mastered getting his son settled and was slightly put out that Shelagh could do it almost instantaneously.

"I told you, Patrick." she only partially teased. "He needs his mother." She gently rocked the bundle of cream blankets.

"And he will have her." Patrick acquiesced. "In two hours when she's back from coffee with her friend."

"I suppose you're right." Shelagh sighed. "I will be back in precisely two hours though, and if he needs me, we'll be near Nonnatus, so you can call there."

"Of course love." He assured knowing he was in no way going to do any such thing. She was such a devoted mother and he loved her for it, but he knew she got restless and even a couple of hours in Trixie's company would do her a world of good. She reluctantly passed Teddy back to Patrick, who was thrilled when his son didn't start squirming again.

"See, we'll be just fine, won't we son?" Patrick asked, playing with Teddy's hand. "Wave goodbye to mummy!" Teddy just gurgled as his father waved his hand back and forth and Shelagh laughed warmly.

"Alright, you ridiculous man." she kissed her smallest boy on the forehead and her largest boy on the lips before finally making her way out the door.

An hour later, Patrick didn't know what to do. Teddy had started crying merely five minutes after Shelagh left and he would not be consoled. Patrick had tried feeding, changing, burping, cuddling, _not_ cuddling, the radio, reading to him, absolutely nothing was working. He even tried doing the silly voices when reading, but apparently that was only soothing to his daughter, not to Teddy. At least Tim and Angela were with their grandmother for the weekend and were not here to make fun of him…

"Come on, Teddy boy, what do you need?" Patrick desperately asked the screaming infant. He knew from experience that sometimes babies did just cry and there was no rhyme or reason to it, but it seemed particularly brutal that Teddy would have a spell on the first day Shelagh left him alone. Shelagh... maybe Teddy really did just miss his mum?

"Do you miss mummy?" Patrick asked hopefully, an idea springing to mind. "Let's see what we can do, huh?"

Patrick swiftly carried Teddy upstairs into the master bedroom and began rummaging around in the laundry bin. He let out a cry of triumph when he found his prize - the soft cotton shirt Shelagh was wearing the day before. The shirt had miraculously made it through the day without being covered in any questionable fluids, but they were both so used to throwing all their clothes in the bin with a new baby around that she must've tossed it out of habit.

He lay Teddy down on the bed and wrapped him tightly in the light blue fabric. He and Shelagh both tended to cuddle the other's pajamas if one of them was out late and he prayed taking comfort in scent was hereditary.

The effect was instantaneous. Teddy's cries turned to soft whimpers as he subconsciously snuggled his head into his mother's scent. Patrick nearly cried.

"I guess you really do need your mum." he whispered. "I need her too. You look almost as cute in her clothes as she does."

Teddy sleepily smacked his lips in response and Patrick gently bounced him as they made their way downstairs to settle on the couch. He loved watching Teddy sleep. He did the same thing with Tim and Angela when they were infants (and sometimes now, but he'd never admit it). No matter how much terror they caused during the day, there was something so serene about watching the rise and fall of their tiny lungs and the small drool bubbles at the corner of their mouths. It was as though nothing bad could exist in a world with something so beautiful in it - even though he knew the notion was far from true.

He didn't blame Shelagh for not wanting to leave him, not one bit. Why would anyone want to be anywhere else?

He gently stroked his finger back and forth against his son's head. Teddy's hair was starting to come in, though he couldn't quite be sure who's coloring it would take. Right now, it was a kind of soft brown which could easily become darker like his or blonder like his mother's. Secretly, he hoped Teddy would end up with his hair. The boy's eyes and nose were all Shelagh and he knew it would drive her crazy to have yet another Turner male with disobeying, floppy locks while her own hair and Angela's hair always fell so perfectly.

"And then," he playfully whispered to Teddy, "at the rate your brother's chasing girls, you'll be just old enough to wear Brylcreem at his wedding and we can take turns embarrassing him while mummy cries and glares at us."

"Patrick, I'm home." Shelagh's melodic voice floated into the living room along with the soft closing of the front door.

"We're here." he said softly over his shoulder.

Shelagh walked quietly, but quickly into the room and beamed at the sight of them on the couch before tipping her head in confusion.

"Is that my shirt?" she asked, thoroughly perplexed. Patrick flushed.

"Yes." he begrudgingly admitted. "Turns out there are now two Turner men who can't sleep without you beside them."

"Oh, Patrick." she smiled with tears in her eyes.

"I hope you don't mind. He was crying, and none of the usual things worked, and I thought it might comfort him." he explained.

"Darling, I would never mind anything like that." she gushed. "I think it's incredibly sweet."

Shelagh tucked her legs up under her and leaned her head on Patrick's shoulder, both of them watching the now-content Teddy in his mother's cardigan.

"I told you he needed his mother." Shelagh teased.

"Hush."

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15 down, 35 to go! Hope you enjoy!


	16. Choose Me

**Prompt 16:** "Choose Me"

 **Summary:** Timothy overhears two very different conversations while he's in the hospital with Polio.

 **A/N:** This one's a little different because it's from Timothy's point of view technically, but I realized I needed to start playing around with formatting a little because some of these prompts are going to have to be altered or heavily reimagined to fit into a realistic Turnadette situation and while I'm open to AU, I don't really want to go extremely OOC. Here we go!

 **Disclaimer:** I own nothing.

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"I promise I'll be right back, Timothy dearest."

Timothy heard Shelagh's voice and felt her kiss on his forehead as she slipped her hand away from its place in his ruffled hair. He couldn't wake to tell her he knew she'd be back. Shelagh and his father hadn't left his side in days. Eventually, his dad had to leave every once in awhile to see to patients, but Shelagh never left. When she did, it was only for a moment and he supposed she must have been running to the lav. He knew when she'd been crying. He could hear it in her voice when she returned. He had nothing better to do than listen at the moment, despite the fact that the doctors seemed convinced he couldn't hear them. He'd been in and out for most of the time, but over the past day or so, he'd been mentally there, if not physically.

He wished he could wake up and tell them how sorry he was. He never meant to ruin the wedding and he never meant to hurt his dad or his step-mum-to-be. He knew their hearts were breaking. He wished he didn't know. He wished he was sound asleep and couldn't hear them trying to convince each other that everything was going to be okay when neither of them knew if it would.

A nurse came by to check his vitals. He heard the tell-tale sounds of the pen on the clipboard and the jostling of his IV. Another nurse quickly joined her. That was odd. Was something wrong? There were never two of them during checks.

"What is it, Nurse Cunningham?" the first nurse asked, annoyed. "You know Matron will kill us if she sees you over here."

"I'll risk it." Nurse Cunningham said eagerly. "I overheard a conversation between Sister Julienne and the Matron today."

"What do I care?" the brisker nurse asked.

"Well, if you stop being a prat, I'll tell you." she snapped. "I know where I recognize her from. You know, Ms. Mannion."

"Did you figure out where Dr. Turner found her?" the formerly detached nurse was suddenly very interested and Timothy was very uncomfortable.

"You wouldn't believe the scandal. Ms. Mannion is Sister Bernadette!" Nurse Cunningham whispered excitedly.

"What?" the other nurse had clearly finished her checks on Timothy was now redoing her motions to look busy. "There's no way. That mousy little nun?"

Timothy desperately willed himself to wake so he could deck the woman in the face.

"Apparently she's been taken off the secondment list - permanently. She's leaving nursing when they get married." the hinting tone in Nurse Cunningham's voice confused Tim until the other nurse bluntly explained.

"You don't think she's got one in the oven?" she asked aghast.

"Why else would they risk the public humiliation? Who would marry a nun unless they _had_ to, you know?"

A door opened at the end of the hall.

"Shh, she's coming back. I'll see you later."

The nurses hurried away as Shelagh's familiar footsteps made their way back towards Tim. He just wanted to hug her. He didn't think she heard what the terrible nurses were saying, but he couldn't bear it. He knew people were gossiping about them and he'd gotten used to people stopping their conversations when they saw him walk by, but he didn't know people were being so vile. Shelagh was one of the best people he'd ever known, how could anyone be so mean to her?

"I'm here, love." Shelagh whispered into his hair.

He wanted to wake up. He wanted to wake up and hug her and call her mum. He wanted to stop that crack in her voice that told him she'd been away longer than she meant to be because she was sobbing in the lav.

"Shelagh, how is he?" Tim smiled to himself. His dad was here. At least Shelagh wasn't alone anymore. Tim felt ever safer as he heard Patrick hurry to his bedside.

"No change according to his charts." Shelagh sighed. "He's still with us, though."

"Thank you for staying with him, my love." Patrick sincerely thanked as he sat across from her.

"I couldn't be anywhere else, Patrick. I couldn't bear it if…" she couldn't bring herself to say it.

"I know." he understood completely. They sat in silence for a moment. "I heard you tell him you loved him first, by the way."

Tim grinned inside. Shelagh had told him that. He'd wanted to make her welcome and said he would call her mum if that's what she wanted and she had promptly told him in no uncertain terms that that decision wasn't about her comfort, it was about his, and she had no intention of ever replacing his birth mother. She then told him she'd fallen for him first and his dad second and joked that she was actually marrying Patrick so she could have him as a son and his dad was a consolation prize. He knew it wasn't entirely true, but it made him feel so loved in a way he never dared hope for.

"Oh no, Patrick, you weren't supposed to hear that." she laughed. It was good to hear her laugh.

"I don't blame you, you know?" They were teasing words, but it didn't sound like his dad was teasing.

"What do you mean?" she asked.

"I didn't make it easy for you, not like he did. I'm sorry." he apologized.

"I don't understand…" she questioned.

"I should've told you sooner." he insisted passionately. "I wanted to. I wanted to long before you were even diagnosed." He laughed in self-ridicule. "I know it's ridiculous, but...I couldn't bear how much pain you were in. You always seemed so sad and I wanted to march straight into Nonnatus and tell you how much I cared and to just say "choose me", but I let this drag on and I hurt us both."

"Patrick, you know that's not true." Shelagh tried to comfort him. "If you had done that, we wouldn't be here and I think you know that."

"I just wish everything didn't hurt so much." Patrick cried and gave into the sobs that had been threatening their escape since he'd left Jack Smith's house and chastised himself for the split second of wishing the boy and his son had switched places.

"Come here." Shelagh whispered.

Tim hadn't heard his dad cry since his mum died. It was horrible. Shelagh was crying too, he could hear it and he hated it. It was nearing the new year. They should've been married by now. They should've been all sitting around at home over his Christmas break and he should be playing with his presents.

He realized suddenly that he'd never seen his dad cry in front of anyone before. He cried alone in his room after mum died, but he didn't cry at her funeral and Tim couldn't remember him ever crying in front of his birth mum. He cried in front of Shelagh though.

This was why, he realized. This was why his dad and Shelagh were willing to 'risk public humiliation' as the nurse had put it. They weren't just the awkward, mushy type of love, they were part of each other.

They had to be married. And soon. He had decided. Plus, his dad still owed him _Brylcreem_.

He heard gasps from the adults.

"Get the nurse!" His dad exclaimed.

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16 down, 34 to go! Hope you enjoy!


	17. Sometimes, I Really Don't Like You

**Prompt 17:** "Sometimes, I really don't like you."

 **Summary:** Set after the maternity home fire, Patrick and Shelagh both have to deal with decisions.

 **A/N:** I'M BACK! I'm so excited to be back in turnadette land. I'm a little knackered from opening weekend, but I'm so happy to be writing again. We've had a slew of fluff, so now we're headed back into dramatic territory.

 **Disclaimer:** I own nothing.

* * *

Patrick was quiet at dinner that night and would barely meet her eyes. She could feel him watching her, but every time she tried to meet his gaze, he suddenly found his food particularly interesting. Tim wouldn't be home from Jack's until tomorrow morning and Angela wasn't exactly an expert conversationalist at one and half, so that left the unsettled couple in silence.

She couldn't figure out what was wrong. At first, she thought he was simply upset about the maternity home, but that was understandable and she was just as worried about the same thing, so there was no reason for him to act strangely around her because of that. In fact, she was surprised he hadn't talked to her about it seeing as she was the only person who might fully understand how he felt about the place they both poured so much love and work into. It would be fully repaired in time and it could have been far worse, but she knew they both felt the weight of the damage and the fear of their patients.

When she looked up at him again, he promptly looked down at his plate and, upon discovering it was empty, began tracing patterns in the leftover sauce with his fork.

"Patrick, is something wrong?" she asked somewhat hesitantly.

He completely ignored her and she felt sparks of frustration push against her concern.

"If you're upset about the maternity home-"

"I'm fine, Shelagh. I don't want to talk about it." He cut her off dismissively.

The words might have deterred her had his tone not stung. She was trying to be better at giving him time to be ready to talk with her about the hard things and she'd come a long way, but her stubbornness and spite were frequently stronger than her judgement.

"You're clearly not 'fine', dear-"

"I said I don't want to talk about it, Shelagh." he snapped as he shot up from the table and headed for his coat.

"Patrick Turner, where do you think you're going?" she cried, appalled at his behavior.

"Out." he nearly spit.

It wasn't until then that she realized in all his anger, he was still refusing to look at her.

"Patrick stop!" she shouted. "Why won't you look at me?"

"Because sometimes, I really don't like you!" he yelled before he could stop himself. His fury at her for her incessant prodding, for her pride, and most of all for the fact that she stayed in a burning building and could've thrown her life away melted at the utter heartbreak in her eyes. "Shelagh, I'm sorry, I didn't mean-"

"Go, Patrick." she whispered. "I won't stop you."

He opened his mouth to say anything. To try and fix this, but he couldn't. He grabbed his coat and slammed the door on the way out.

Shelagh wanted to fall to the floor and sob and scream, but the banging door and her parents' shouting had woken Angela and Shelagh had another's fear to attend to before her own. Just as it had always been.

"I'm sorry, little one." Shelagh soothed as she picked up her wailing daughter. "I'm so sorry." She couldn't stop herself from crying along with Angela. She and Patrick had come so far since their first big fight over Northfield and she knew they weren't perfect, but she never thought that he didn't love her anymore. She couldn't stand up anymore. She carried Angela to their bedroom and curled up around her on the bed she wasn't sure Patrick would come back to that night. The two girls cried themselves to sleep.

Patrick didn't come home until very late.

The flat was exactly as he'd left it, which meant Shelagh couldn't bring herself to wash up after dinner. He knew it was bad. Untidiness was one of the few things his wife could not abide under any circumstances.

He slowly pushed open the door to their bedroom, half hoping she'd left with Angela and half praying she was still there. The light from the hall slowly illuminated the bed and he felt relief spread through his body at the sight of his girls. Both were sound asleep, so he gently removed Angela and brought her back to her cot before sitting next to Shelagh. He knew she didn't feel peaceful, but she looked so serene and he was content to watch her for just a few more moments before he ruined it all.

He didn't know how to have this conversation. He meant exactly what he said, but not at all the way he was sure she interpreted it. He loved her more fiercely than he ever thought possible and that love grew every second they were together. He could never stop loving her. However, they were both extremely stubborn, passionate individuals and he knew there were things they couldn't stand about each other. That didn't really phase him as he'd been previously married and knew that loving someone didn't always mean _liking_ them, but Shelagh wasn't like him in that respect. Shelagh frequently loved whole-heartedly and saw the beauty in everything she did and touched, even if it made her angry. Shelagh needed to talk about things in order to understand them and found it difficult when he didn't confide in her; she couldn't stand secrets.

On the other hand, they were also extremely alike in many ways, and maybe that was why he was so furious with her earlier.

It wasn't that he didn't understand why she'd risked her life to save their patients and could've killed herself in the process, it was that he knew he would've done the same thing. He couldn't tell her not to act the way she did because it would've been hypocritical and she was far too intelligent not to realize that. On the other hand, if anything had happened to her, he wouldn't have survived and that made him feel selfish. He loved Shelagh beyond words, but he hated her need to put everyone before herself - including him. How could he possibly tell her that though? How could he tell her that the selfless care that drew him to her in the first place was now the thing that made him want to lock her in the house for her own damn good?

"Patrick?" he heard her murmur groggily. He must've been sitting there longer than he thought.

"I'm sorry, love. Go back to sleep." he whispered.

"You're here?" she asked in awe. His heart shattered again.

"I'm here." he promised. "I will never leave you."

Shelagh rolled over and turned on the lamp and sat up to face him.

"You said you…" she couldn't finish the sentence.

"I know. And I'm so sorry." he apologized sincerely.

"Did you mean it?" she asked, utterly terrified.

"I love you, Shelagh." he promised.

"That's not what I asked." she gently corrected.

Patrick sighed.

"I didn't mean it the way it came out. I love you, my darling, I can't live without you, but we're both only human. There are things that both of us do that the other might not like." he very carefully worded.

"I know that, Patrick, I'm not naive." she said with a little more bite than intended. "But you didn't say you didn't like certain things about me, you said you didn't like _me_."

"And it wasn't true." he quickly and truthfully assured. "I was scared and angry and I said the wrong thing."

"You were scared?" she asked. Leave it to Shelagh to pick up on the one piece of information that was about him rather than continuing to tend to her own heartbreak.

"I was. I am." he paused. "I was so grateful when you walked out of the maternity home unharmed, but then I couldn't help but think how easily you could've been hurt. You could have been killed, Shelagh. I didn't know if you were alright."

She understood. They were getting somewhere.

"You were angry that I stayed behind." she clarified, her hurt softening though, not disappearing.

"Yes." he sighed. "And I know how selfish and hypocritical that sounds."

"It is," she agreed, "but I know you would've done the same thing and I would've felt the same way."

A hint of a smile graced her face for the first time that evening.

"We're quite the pair aren't we?" Patrick joked wryly.

"It would seem so. I'm sorry I pushed. I know I told you I would work on that." she apologized sheepishly.

"It's alright." he forgave her. "I'm not foolish enough to believe that either of us stubborn mules will change overnight. I just want you to know that I'm not going anywhere."

"It might take a little time," she admitted, "but I'm not going anywhere either."

She reached out and took his hand and her simple touch let loose the tension in his body. For the first time since he left, he dared to think that they might truly be able to forgive each other.

"Can I come to bed?" he asked. His blatant fear that she would banish him from their room when all he wanted to do was hold her and make sure she was safe pushed through the remaining walls of her anger.

"I wouldn't want you anywhere else."

She leaned forward and kissed him sweetly and he held her until they fell asleep.

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17 down, 33 to go! Hope you enjoy!


	18. Stop Biting That Bloody Lip

**Prompt 18:** "Stop biting that bloody lip."

 **Summary:** Patrick is unprepared for Shelagh's attack of pregnancy hormones. I'm eliminating the miscarriage scare for the sake of this story and because poor baby Shelagh didn't deserve that!

 **A/N:** THIS PROMPT IS M-RATED PROCEED AT YOUR OWN RISK. Like, it's just smut. Okay, that's all.

 **Disclaimer:** I own nothing.

* * *

"Shelagh, I really have to go this time." Patrick was honestly trying his hardest to get downstairs and out the door to the surgery, but Shelagh was making that next to impossible. She'd woken him at 5am with less-than-subtle movements of her fingers on his thigh and soft nips of her teeth along his shoulder. They never went back to sleep. Now, though, it was 7:30 and truly, if he didn't get out of bed soon, he was going be embarrassingly late.

"You don't have any appointments until 10." Shelagh grumbled as she kissed her way across the back of his neck.

"I have rounds before then, love." he sighed in tortured frustration as she doubled her efforts and wrapped her legs around him from behind. He'd finally made it to sitting on the edge of the bed, which was much further than he'd made it after round one, but she was apparently determined not to let him escape. "When did you develop such a disregard for my schedule?"

"I didn't," she giggled, "I just decided you were better scheduled here." She punctuated her quip by sliding her hands from around his waist to between his legs.

He was going to be late.

He finally stumbled into the surgery at 10:30 after frantically completing his rounds and praying that none of his patients noticed that he'd pulled his jumper on backwards after his nearly humiliatingly fast round three with his wife...his wife who was sitting at her desk looking as prim and proper as ever with her perfectly pinned hair and blouse only just pushed out by her four month pregnancy belly. Nurse Mount gave him a clearly questioning look at his haggard appearance, but he ignored it and marched speedily to his office without another glance at Shelagh. He couldn't afford to look at her anymore today. Lately, it seemed any time they made eye contact, their clothes were on the floor ten seconds later. It was only partially his fault, really. He'd grown so used to being the lead instigator in this aspect of their marriage that when her morning sickness stopped and her hormones kicked in, he was more than pleasantly surprised. He loved his bold, challenging Shelagh and was more than happy to let her take the lead. Until, of course, her desire became insatiable and it became everything he could do to keep up with her. It was rare that he felt the age difference between them, but he was sure his exhaustion was starting to become visible to everyone and he wasn't sure he'd be able to think of a good excuse if anyone asked why he was so tired.

He supposed he could refuse her, but really, he knew he never would. Aside from the fact that he couldn't bear the thought of refusing his pregnant wife anything, he _wanted_ to be with her. He expected that their sex life would calm slightly as their marriage went on, but in reality, the only things that slowed it down were interruptions from others. If they weren't both so dedicated to their work and they didn't have two children with a third on the way, he wouldn't have been surprised if they were together nightly. Truth be told, he supposed those obstacles could be gotten around. Shelagh had certainly proven that over the past week…

The knock on his door at the beginning of his lunch hour didn't surprise him and he happily looked up, expecting to see Shelagh with their lunches in hand. His favorite little spitfire did indeed enter his office, but instead of leaving the door open and walking to his desk, she locked the door and leaned against it with a familiar gleam in her eyes.

"Hello darling" she greeted with a shy smile before slowly making her way towards his desk.

"I know what you're doing and it won't work." Patrick tried to stop her with a grin. "Shelagh Turner wouldn't dare." he felt confident in his assumption that she wouldn't actually have locked his office door for _that_ , but when his teasing didn't seem to phase her, he got a little worried.

She stopped at the edge of his desk.

"Maybe you don't know Shelagh Turner as well as you think." Her voice dropped and she caught her lip between her teeth, somewhat shocked at her own brazenness, but unable to focus on anything else.

She was killing him.

"Stop that." he nearly growled.

"Stop what?" she asked completely innocently. God, she really had no idea and he didn't know how to handle the flushed temptress in front of him when she genuinely didn't understand how seductive she was being behind the overwhelming push of her hormones.

"Stop biting that bloody lip, Shelagh." he warned. "I might not be able to control myself if you don't."

She flushed even deeper and he saw the war in her eyes between her desperation and her modesty. He wasn't sure which one he wanted to win out at this point. They shouldn't do this here and had frequently stopped themselves before, but he didn't know if four-months-pregnant Shelagh would want to stop and the idea thrilled him as much as it terrified him.

He saw the minute her resolve broke.

"I don't think I want you to control yourself." she whispered.

"Love, are you sure?" he forced himself to ask one more time before they both did something they would regret.

"Please, Patrick." she begged.

He broke.

He threw himself out of his chair, rushed over to her side of the desk, and kissed her roughly, tugging on her swollen lip with his own teeth. His enthusiasm lifted her off the floor and he groaned as she wrapped her legs around his waist. He had originally cursed the day she abandoned her tight pencil skirts for looser dresses, but now he was eternally grateful for the way the fabric let her move uninhibited around him.

He unceremoniously dropped her on the desk. He would apologize later. He needed his hands.

Her skin was searing, even through the light fabric of her dress, and she keened at every touch as though they'd been apart for months and not ravaging each other that morning. That part of her, at least, was consistent. Once she fell over her wall of insecurities, she was fully committed to their sexual adventures.

Shelagh knew that increased desire was a common side effect of pregnancy, but she wasn't prepared at all for when it actually hit her. She loved sex, and she loved Patrick, but suddenly it wasn't just love, it was need. Pure, unadulterated need. She couldn't focus, she couldn't sleep, and she constantly felt like she wanted to crawl out of her skin with how sensitive she was. It was as if they only thing in the world that made her feel calm was her husband's touch and really, that didn't make her feel calm at all.

He was wearing one of his blasted jumpers today; she couldn't even rip it off him. He must've sensed her frustration and he stepped back and quickly tossed off the jumper, his shirt, and his vest in one go. The feel of his warm chest against her palms sent relief soaring through her and she dragged her fingers down his stomach to the button of his pants as he shivered.

"God, Shelagh, you're insatiable." he grunted as he slid his hands up her skirt and bit down hard against her neck. He wanted her dress off, but there wasn't time and her desperation was contagious. His fingers found her at the same time hers managed to sneak beneath his shorts and they both gasped at the jolt of pleasure.

"Patrick. Need. You." she panted as he pulled her panties aside. Her head fell back when he slipped two fingers inside of her and he groaned at the vision of wantonness she made before him. She was still oversensitive from their relentlessness that morning and he quickly shoved two fingers of the hand that wasn't making her see stars into her mouth to stop her growing volume. She was surprised at how much she welcomed the intrusion and sucked at his fingers. The sensation combined with her eagerness sent him reeling and he suddenly didn't care about making her come before they were joined. It wasn't as if it was going to take much to get her there anyway.

She whimpered at the loss of his fingers, but then shot up into his arms as he entered her without warning.

"Yes, yes, yes." she chanted into his shoulder as he dug his nails into her backside to steady them both. He had no idea where his stamina was coming from lately, but god, was he thrilled about it. Her insanity bled into him and threw his logical mind into a messy haze where nothing existed except the incredible feeling of her throbbing around him.

"Oh, Shelagh." he sighed. "So. Good."

He heard the high pitched whimpers in the back of her throat and knew she was close. He slammed faster against her and ignored the sear of pain as she bit into his shoulder when she came. Her seizing muscles drew his own release out of him and they collapsed onto the desk in a pile of sweat and heat.

"Feeling better, love?" he asked cheekily.

She blushed into the roots of her hair.

"Yes." she shyly admitted. He marveled at her ability to look that sweet after what they just did, and in his office, no less. "I don't know what's gotten into me lately."

"Well, I imagine it was me." he grinned. She rolled her eyes and laughed. "I do want you to eat something before break is over. In all seriousness, as much as I love your enthusiasm for physical activity, I worry that you're not eating enough."

"We're both fine, Patrick." she assured. "I promise I'll eat some lunch."

"Thank you."

He put himself back together and she gently hopped off the desk to grab their lunches.

"Patrick?" she called from the door.

"Yes?"

"Don't wear a jumpertomorrow." she instructed with a smile as she headed out of his office and past a winking Patsy.

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18 down, 32 to go! Hope you enjoy!


	19. You're Getting Crumbs on my Bed

**Prompt 19:** "You're getting crumbs all over my bed."

 **Summary/AN:** This one is kind of cheating because I'm playing around with a longer fic in this AU, but I also wanted to get a feel for if people wanted to read the monster-long version of it! Basically in this AU, Shelagh is orphaned at six and taken in by Nonnatus and Patrick was born and raised in Poplar before he goes off to war. It's a really long fic that's been bouncing around in my head for awhile, but I wanted to kind of test it? The whole story is mostly about Shelagh and her journey, but everyone else is there too. Anyway, this chapter is Shelagh and Patrick's first meeting when she's seven and he's 24.

 **Disclaimer:** I own nothing, but I did invent some nuns, nurses, and doctors.

* * *

 _Poplar, 1933._

The harvest festival was one of Shelagh's favorite times of year. She always loved the smell of fall and fresh fruits and vegetables. It smelled like the farm; like home. The sisters were hard at work in the kitchen preparing for the harvest feast and she'd been strictly told she was not to mess around with any of the food. The community had very little and they didn't want anything wasted. Still, she wanted to be a part of it all. Shelagh spent most of the morning and the afternoon perched in the kitchen doorway on top of a chair so she could watch the growing bounty on the counter tops. Sister Mary Prudence had tried to shoo her away several times, but Sister Evangelina eventually said she could stay as long as she didn't get underfoot. Sister Monica Joan understood her plight of not being as included as she would've liked and frequently winked her way as she snuck cranberries into the excited girl's hands. The kitchen smelled like magic and for the first time, Shelagh didn't feel the crushing weight of grief and homesickness in the back of her heart.

Soon, there was nothing to do but wait and the rest of the Sisters left the kitchen to wash themselves and see to patients. Sister Julienne came back in to grab tea for a visitor at some point while Sister Evangelina took the duty of tidying the kitchen itself.

Shelagh didn't find the cleaning as interesting as the cooking, so she sat with her small handful of cranberries and lost herself in the sweet smells. Eventually though, she got bored and was going to leave when a thought occurred to her. Sister Evangelina always looked to be the toughest of the nuns, but she was also the most susceptible to Shelagh's charms and that meant opportunity was ripe. Sister Evangelina could feel Shelagh watching her from the doorway and knew exactly what kept the tiny scot in her place.

"Alright, you little scamp, come here, I know what you're after." Sister Evangelina waved her over from her loitering spot by the door and Shelagh gleefully skipped back into the kitchen for her prize. Dinner wouldn't be for some time, but she had high hopes of a special biscuit beforehand and it seemed her prayers were going to be answered. Sister Evangelina shook her head as she pulled out the hidden tin in far less time than it normally took. "You're worse than Sister Monica Joan, you know? At least you never eat them all in one sitting."

"Only because you won't let me!" Shelagh protested with a grin.

"And for good reason, Mannion." Sister Evangelina teased as she snatched the tin away before Shelagh could sneak a second one. "You're trouble enough as it is, no one needs you on a sugar rush."

Shelagh hugged the woman who had quickly become one of her many mothers and darted away with a chipper "Thank you, Sister Evie!" Now alone with her biscuit, she realized why Sister Evangelina had been able to get her the treat so quickly. The tin wasn't hidden at all! Why was that? How had she not noticed? She knew no one would ever leave it around for her or Sister Monica Joan to plunder, so why was it out? Did someone else eat her special biscuits? Shelagh didn't put much stock into personal possessions, but she didn't have very much that she could call her own and those were _her_ special Nonnatus biscuits that Ms. Violet made especially for her from an old Scottish recipe. She didn't like the idea of someone having one and her not knowing about it. Sister Julienne would tell her to not be selfish and to share and she sighed as she tried to remember her lesson. She supposed whoever needed the biscuit must've needed it very badly or they wouldn't have been allowed. Assured by her own logic, she happily turned the corner into the sitting room only to be confronted with the extremely confusing image of a strange man sitting on _her_ bed and eating _her_ biscuit!

Shelagh was shy outside of the walls of her new home, but inside, her fiery spirit reigned free.

"Excuse me, you're getting crumbs all over my bed!" she pointed to the blankets on the couch beneath the stranger and the man immediately lept up.

"I'm so sorry, I didn't realize anyone slept here." he hastily apologized.

"It's okay." she accepted his apology. She had already been ruder than she meant to be and he did seem genuinely sorry. There was a kindness about him that she hadn't seen from most men in Poplar. Plus, he was allowed to sit inside Nonnatus and as far as she knew, men didn't really come in here. He must be very special. "I'm Shelagh." she stuck her tiny hand out in greetings.

"Patrick." he met her hand with his and gently shook it. "I've heard about you. Or rather, read about you I suppose. Sister Julienne wrote about you in her letters."

"She did?" Shelagh asked in wonder.

"Yes, you've become quite famous in these parts." he joked. Shelagh's smile faltered.

"I don't want to be famous." she said softly. "The other kids make fun of me because I don't have a mum and dad and they say my accent's funny."

"That's not very nice of them." Patrick tried to comfort the little soul who was rapidly opening up to him for reasons he couldn't understand. "You know, I don't have a mum or dad either."

"Really?" Shelagh knew she shouldn't be happy at someone else's misfortune, but the only other people she knew whose parents had died were the older nuns and that was to be expected. This man, Patrick, was older than her for sure, but much younger than Sister Monica Joan.

"Really." Patrick sighed sadly. "My mum died when I was very little and my dad died in the war."

"Oh. I'm sorry." She knew she was supposed to say she was sorry, though she still wasn't sure why. Lots of people had said they were sorry when her parents passed, but it confused her. It wasn't their fault.

"Thank you." he smiled.

"Oh, Patrick, I see you've met our Shelagh." Sister Julienne said cheerfully as she walked into the room to greet the young man. Shelagh stared. She'd never seen Sister Julienne hug a man before! "Shelagh, this is Patrick Turner. His mum was a nurse with us and he's just come back from medical school. He'll be observing with Dr. Andrews until he leaves us again for the London to do his residency."

Shelagh wasn't sure what to say. She didn't know what a residency was, but it was clear that this Patrick was part of the Nonnatus family and she supposed that meant he was part of her family in a way?

"Does that mean you're going to be a doctor?" Shelagh asked, suddenly more shy with two adults in the room to her one child.

"I hope so." Patrick laughed. "That is if Dr. Andrews doesn't throw me out for tardiness."

"We hoped university would cure of you that." Sister Julienne joked.

"Alas, it seems I cannot be cured." Patrick sighed. "I should be going. Thank you for the tea and biscuits, Sister." he knelt down and held his hand out again. "It was lovely to meet you, Shelagh." Shelagh shook his hand and watched Sister Julienne walk him to the door.

He'd said 'biscuits'...plural...as in more than one...she would have to keep an eye on him.

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19 down, 31 to go! Hope you enjoy!


	20. Why are you so nice to me?

**Prompt 20:** "Why are you so nice to me?"

 **Summary:** Sister Bernadette after her first rough delivery with Dr. Turner. TW: self-hatred, abuse, language

 **A/N:** I'm back! With a sad one, but I promise there's more fluff and smut to come soon. :D

 **Disclaimer:** I own nothing.

* * *

"You killed her! You stupid bitch!"

Jackson Kent threw Sister Bernadette against the wall and had his fist raised to hit her as Doctor Turner grabbed him from behind.

"Get off of her!" he shouted as he tried to subdue the raging widower.

"She killed my Sally! She killed my son! It's her fault!" Mr. Kent spat in fury.

"It's no one's fault, Mr. Kent, these things happen!" Dr. Turner had managed to drag Mr. Kent backwards far enough to get Sister Bernadette out of harm's way, but he needed the man to calm down.

"What do you know?!" Mr. Kent fought against Dr. Turner's grip. "You with your perfect wife and perfect son and your well-off flat? You and these bloody nuns, don't know nothing about real life!"

"You can yell all you want, it won't bring them back, Mr. Kent!" Dr. Turner grunted as he shoved the man out of the bedroom and bolted the door.

"You can't keep me out of my own room!" Mr. Kent hollered.

"I can until the coroner gets here, now go and cool off or I'll call the police!" he shouted through the door.

Mr. Kent threw his fist against the door and finally stormed away screaming.

Dr. Turner sighed in relief. The poor man's reaction wasn't unwarranted, but it didn't change the fact that they'd just lost his wife and only child to a violent hemorrhage and a stillborn birth. He turned and leaned heavily against the door. It seemed the whole room was covered in blood. He closed his eyes and tried to force away the image of his Marianne in Sally's place with a tiny, blue Timothy in the corner. It was the only reason he hadn't hit Jackson. His own son was barely two months old and he couldn't imagine the rage and unrelenting agony he would feel if anything happened to either member of his precious family.

When his nausea had subsided, he opened his eyes and forced himself to focus on the young nun. He'd worked alongside her before, but she was incredibly quiet and he didn't know much about her apart from the fact that despite what Mr. Kent said, she was an exceptional midwife. She couldn't be older than early 20s and so he wasn't sure if she'd ever lost a patient before.

"Are you alright, Sister?" he asked cautiously. He also wasn't sure if she'd hit her head when she hit the wall.

Sister Bernadette sat on the floor, eyes glazed over. She didn't respond.

"Sister Bernadette?" he asked again as he stepped towards her and held out his hand. She visibly flinched and he froze. "It's alright, it's just me. Mr. Kent is gone."

He stepped towards her, intent on helping her up, after her eyes met his, but the look on her face stopped him. It was partially fear, but mostly sad anticipation. She was waiting for him to punish her. He'd seen the same look on his sister's face enough times to recognize it. He felt a sudden urge of fierce protectiveness over their newest nurse.

He eased down onto the floor - he knew his height could be intimidating - and just sat and waited. He didn't want to leave her alone in a room with two dead patients, but he also didn't want to scare her further. She'd been doing remarkably well in the East End for such a young, soft-spoken girl and he would hate for this to send her running.

They sat in silence, surrounded by the smells of blood, amniotic fluid, and stale flesh: smells that would've destroyed others, but felt like a day's work to them. He wondered why she entered into nursing. Was it simply interest or was she driven, like him, to find a way to put a positive drive behind the constant smell of blood in his memories?

"Are you angry?" he heard her ask hesitatingly. At least she was feeling safe enough to talk.

"Not with you." he answered honestly. "You did everything you could. We both did."

"But I'm her - I _was_ her midwife." she argued gently. "I was supposed to keep her safe."

"With all due respect, Sister, we're not miracle workers. Sometimes disasters happen that we have no control over." his eyes darkened. "He should never have hurt you."

"Yes he should have." she whispered. "I deserved it."

"No, you didn't." he promised vehemently. "Even if a single part of this mess was your fault, which it isn't, he had no right to touch you."

Sister Bernadette cast her eyes to the floor. She knew it was pointless to argue. She would never believe him and he would never stop trying to convince her otherwise. She did wonder, though.

"Why are you so nice to me?" she asked. People, but men especially, didn't have the best track record of being kind to her.

"You make it easy to be." he replied simply. Truly looking at her for the first time, he realized just how young and pretty she was. He couldn't help but wonder if whatever horrors her past held were partially responsible for her vocation.

"I should clean up." she said quickly, standing and turning from his gaze. She didn't think there was anything menacing in his looks, but somehow that made them even more unsettling.

"I'll help you." he offered.

"Thank you, but it's not necessary, Doctor." she replied. "I'm sure you have other patients to attend to and there's nothing more you can do here."

He understood. She wanted to be alone.

"Are you sure you'll be alright?" he asked, clearly not referring to the clean up.

"I'll be perfectly fine, thank you Dr. Turner." she answered unconvincingly, but without room for argument.

He nodded and gathered his things.

She wouldn't know until many years later than he hadn't actually left. He'd waited until the coroner arrived so that Mr. Kent wouldn't come home while she was there alone and only headed back to Marianne and Timothy once she'd pedaled away on her bicycle.

He wouldn't know until many years later that that afternoon, he'd become the first man she ever trusted and respected. Sister Julienne had told her when she arrived that Dr. Turner was a good man, but people had said that about many men who had turned out to be cruel. It gave her hope in the world knowing that he wasn't one of them.

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20 down, 30 to go! Almost halfway!


	21. Stay with Me

**Prompt 21:** "Stay With Me"

 **Summary:** Not exactly a follow up to Prompt 20, but a plot-bunny spin off? Takes place early Season 6 after a failed delivery. TW: death, blood, violence.

 **A/N:** This one is just a pile of angst. Like, there's no other way around it. I'm feeling angsty, so my writing is feeling angsty. This is another plot bunny that I think is going to eventually turn into a longer story, but it just really, really wanted to be written today, so I listened to it. Sick me is terrified and frustrated about performing while ill, so my writing characters are now terrified and frustrated? I don't know. I promise the next chapter will be fluff and/or smut! I already know what it's going to be about!

 **Disclaimer:** I own nothing.

* * *

"How is he?"

Sister Julienne didn't have to say who. Somehow all of Nonnatus knew that Patrick hadn't come home until 5am covered in blood and sweat and with an absent look in his eyes.

"He's coping." said Shelagh sadly.

"No one blames him, you know." Sister Julienne assured.

"I know." Shelagh sighed. "I just wish he didn't blame himself."

"No one handles the loss of a mother and child well, but I think it's affected him more since Marianne passed." said Sister Julienne. "I'm sorry, I don't mean to-"

"It's alright Sister," Shelagh smiled, "Patrick and I have talked a lot about her and I don't mind. Besides, you're not wrong about him. South Africa did us both a world of good, but I think he still worries about doing more harm than help."

"Is he coming into the clinic today?" she asked.

"I told him not to, but he seemed determined this morning, so we'll have to see I suppose." replied Shelagh. "If he seems like he's not doing well, I'll take him home."

"I don't want you to over exert yourself either." Sister Julienne said affectionately with a glance down to Shelagh's now-swelling stomach.

"I won't." Shelagh smiled. "Baby has actually been quite well behaved since last night. I think he knows we need a bit of peace."

"He?" Sister Julienne questioned.

"Just a feeling." Shelagh shrugged as she sorted through the list of patients due to come in momentarily.

Sister Julienne smiled and shook her head. Sister Bernadette would've told Shelagh she couldn't possibly know the baby's gender, but then again, Sister Bernadette wouldn't be having this baby. So much had changed over the past few years, but looking at the young woman before her, Sister Julienne wouldn't have it any other way. Her daughter had come so far and her family was truly blessed.

The doors opened and both women looked up to see Patrick walk in with a haunted look in his eyes.

"Oh, Shelagh, he's in no fit state-" Sister Julienne started, but Shelagh was already walking towards her husband.

"Patrick, love," she gently grabbed his shoulder, "you don't have to be here."

"Yes I do." he argued. "I can't sit at home all day just thinking about it."

"But, darling-"

"Please, Shelagh. I promise if I can't handle it, I'll let you know. It won't be like last time. I've lost patients during childbirth before." he swore.

Shelagh sighed. She knew she wouldn't changed his mind and they had come a long way since his last breakdown. She needed to trust that he would let her know when he needed her.

"Alright." she acquiesced with a quick kiss to his cheek.

Sister Julienne gave her a questioning look when she returned to the intake table, but she shook her head. As much as she didn't like it, she understood Patrick's need to work and she would let him be as long as she could.

Half way through clinic, Patrick was actually faring much better. The patients were happy to see him and there hadn't been any catastrophes. Patsy had been the attending midwife the previous night and Shelagh was sure seeing her at work at the clinic was also motivating Patrick to be strong as well. She admired Nurse Mount and was secretly glad Patrick had been working with her during the loss rather than one of the more emotional nurses.

Shelagh saw him walk to kitchen to take a break and took the opportunity to check on him. Walking in behind him, she softly laughed as his hand habitually reached for the cigarette case that was no longer in his coat pocket and then sighed dejectedly.

"You didn't think it was funny a year ago." he said wryly.

"It's not my fault it's harder for you to quit than me." she teased as she held out a biscuit for him instead. "How are you feeling?"

"Better, actually." he affirmed. "Things are going well today."

"Yes, they are." she agreed.

"How are _you_ feeling?" he asked in turn with a glance to her stomach.

"I couldn't feel better, Patrick." she beamed. "I feel as if everything is slowly falling into place again."

"Even with Sister Ursula running amok with your filing system?" he asked with a smirk.

"I said slowly, dear." she rolled her eyes. "I'm glad to see you're clearly cheering up, even if it is at my expense."

"Never at your expense, my love." he smiled cheekily and pulled her in for a kiss.

"Doctor Turner?!" a slightly slurred voice bellowed through the hall. "Where is Doctor Turner?!"

Shelagh and Patrick looked at each other in confusion and quickly made their way into the main clinic room to find it silent except for the one, yelling voice. Patrick saw the man the voice belonged to and suddenly he wasn't alright at all. Arthur Cartwright, husband and father of the previous night's casualties, stood drunk and fuming before the entrance to the clinic.

"Mr. Cartwright." Patrick spoke evenly. "You shouldn't be here."

"No, you shouldn't be here!" he barked. "How can you lot trust him when he's a killer?"

"Mr. Cartwright, you're drunk." Patrick tried to reason. "You're hurting and you need to go home."

"I have nothing at home because of you and that girl." he spat, indicating Patsy.

The mothers throughout the clinic instinctively tried to gather their children, but it only angered him.

"Don't move!" he shouted.

"Don't you threaten them, they didn't do anything!" Patrick snapped as he walked towards Mr. Cartwright. Shelagh paled as she saw the crazed man reach for his pants pocket.

"Patrick, stop!" she screamed at the same time Mr. Cartwright drew the gun he'd stolen from his brother's ship and pointed it at Patrick.

The entire room seized with tension and Shelagh clenched her hand against her stomach.

"Arthur," Patrick spoke slowly and calmly despite the rapid beating of his heart, "you don't want to do this. Killing me won't bring them back."

He saw Mr. Cartwright's gaze flit to the left towards Shelagh and instantly, Patrick knew he'd said the wrong thing.

"I know. I don't want to kill you. I want you to know what it feels like to lose them." Arthur grimaced.

"No!" Patrick wasn't even aware of his body moving. All he saw was the split second it took for Mr. Cartwright to point the gun at Shelagh and then all he felt was gut-wrenching pain rip through his side as he threw himself in front of her and their unborn child.

"Patrick!" Shelagh screamed as she threw herself to the floor beside him.

"Police!" Barbara had managed to sneak out at grab the nearest constable, but it was too little too late. The constable immediately apprehended Arthur Cartwright, who didn't even struggle he was so shocked that he'd actually pulled the trigger.

Around her, Shelagh barely heard the chaos of yelling and running. She thought she heard someone shout for an ambulance, but she couldn't be sure. Her entire world had closed in on the man she loved and how she knew in the back of her head that she needed to keep pressure on his side even though the warm blood against her hands made her want to wretch.

"Patrick, please." she cried. "Please stay with me. I love you. We love you."

She felt his hand squeeze against hers as he fought to hold onto consciousness.

"Won't...leave…you…" he forced out before he let himself be taken under. The pain was too great to handle, but he would see her again in the hospital when he woke up. He had to. He had to stay with her.

* * *

21 down, 29 to go! Sorry for the feels fest!


	22. Just Shut Up and Kiss Me

**Prompt 22:** "Just shut up and kiss me."

 **Summary:** Patrick and Shelagh have to stay at Nonnatus because of a burst pipe in their flat. Shenanigans ensue. This is set sometime in early Season 3, pre-infertility crisis.

 **A/N:** Okay, we're out of dramatic territory...for now… :P

 **Disclaimer:** I own nothing.

* * *

"I won't do it, Shelagh." Patrick protested.

"Patrick, it's the only place we can stay on such short notice." Shelagh argued, exasperated.

"We could go to Granny Parker's with Timothy, you know she'd be happy to have us." He suggested lamely.

"No we can't, and you know it. We don't know how long it'll be before we can go back to the flat and you have work. Timothy can only go because of half-term."

"We could get a hotel." He suggested with a little more zeal. "The pipe soaked most of our things anyway, you wouldn't need clothes." Shelagh rolled her eyes.

"We can't afford a hotel for what could be weeks, Patrick." Her tone was firm, but the glint in her eye told him she wouldn't have minded a spontaneous second honeymoon. "No, Nonnatus is close to work and it's free and Sister Julienne has already said we can stay. Plus, if Timothy has to start school again before we move back, they'll have room for him as well."

Shelagh looked up at her husband and felt awful. She didn't really feel comfortable staying in her former home either, but it was the only choice they had. She might've been amenable to the hotel idea if they knew when the damage from the broken pipe in their flat would be fixed, but they had no news on that front. They were simply told they needed to leave during repairs and they would be notified when it was safe to return. That could be tomorrow, but it could also be weeks and they needed a stable, convenient place to stay.

"I'm sorry, Patrick, I don't like it either." she sighed.

"No, you're right." he admitted. "It is our best option. It just makes me feel...I don't know, somewhat lecherous."

"Lecherous?" she asked with a raised eyebrow.

"We'd be sharing a bed under the same roof where you were a nun and I doubt the Sisters or the Nurses would let us forget that any time soon." he explained somewhat nervously. Shelagh blushed and grinned. "What?"

"I was going to say we wouldn't necessarily have to share a bed, but the truth is, I don't think I could stand that." she blushed further into the roots of her hair. "What kind of woman does that make me?"

"I'm not sure what kind of woman it makes you, but it makes me a very lucky man." he grinned as he pulled her in for a quick kiss. "I suppose we should get this over with."

"Quite right." she agreed. They both turned and dragged their suitcases up the steps of Nonnatus house and rang the bell.

"You know, Chummy and Peter stayed at Nonnatus and it wasn't so bad." she reasoned. "Maybe it won't be as awkward as we think?"

He was going to answer when Sister Evangelina opened the door.

"Oh good, the happy couple is here." she remarked with more than a bit of sass. "Straight down the hall to the right and the Doctor leaves with the number of nuns he came with, no exceptions."

Sister Evangelina huffed away and Patrick and Shelagh sighed. Their flat couldn't get fixed soon enough.

* * *

It was two days later and Patrick was ready to give Peter Noakes a medal. Having never lived with more than one female at a time during his adult life, he was sorely underprepared for the utter mayhem of navigating Nonnatus house. It seemed he couldn't do anything right. He messed up the bathroom rotations, he didn't know when meals were, and privacy was a distant dream. Worst of all was the fact that Shelagh knew exactly how to behave in Nonnatus and could've helped him, but she was struggling to do so because everyone else had immediately realized that she was living in Nonnatus with no house work to keep her occupied (a hazard of not having a house or a son to care for) and practically dragged her back into helping out. She didn't mind it all, but she felt atrocious for not having the time she wanted for Patrick. Not that it would've mattered since the man in question was nearly inventing patients to avoid going 'home'.

Not that she would ever tell the Sisters or the other nurses, but Shelagh missed her husband dearly. They'd both anticipated that sex might be awkward inside of Nonnatus, but neither of them had really entertained the possibility of it not happening at all. They were still, by all accounts, newlyweds and both of them were still coming off the horrid period of time when gossip dictated they never be within a foot of each other.

They never thought about the fact that having both the local GP and arguably Poplar's best midwife readily available would mean they would never have an uninterrupted moment together.

The previous night, Patrick had been halfway through ripping off her new nurse's uniform (on loan from Sister Julienne, but they'd be taking it if he had anything to say about it) when Sister Winifred had barged in without knocking to fetch him for a case and the entire incident had been so humiliating that Patrick had left before daylight on his rounds and Shelagh hadn't been able to make eye contact with anyone the whole morning for fear they would see how sexually frustrated she was behind her embarrassment.

Luckily, the day had been blissfully busy and by the time Patrick was due to come back from the surgery, nearly everyone was out on evening rounds or too exhausted to leave their rooms, which left just Shelagh cleaning in the clinical room while Trixie kept her company waiting for the phone to ring.

"I must say, it's lovely having you back." Trixie said affectionately.

"Because you missed me or because no one else can get the autoclave this clean?" Shelagh quipped. Trixie gasped.

"Well, look what marriage has done to you, Shelagh Turner!" she teased with a giggle.

"I'm sorry, I don't mean to be facetious." Shelagh apologized.

"You don't have to apologize, sweetie." Trixie assured. "Personally, I always loved Sister Bernadette, but I'm honestly thrilled to call Shelagh my friend."

"Really?" Shelagh asked.

"Absolutely." Trixie promised. "It hasn't been the same without you here. Everyone misses you."

"I think Sister Evangelina might disagree." Shelagh sighed.

"Nonsense," Trixie scoffed, "she misses you just as much as the rest of us, if not more. Truthfully, I think she's just jealous that you chose Doctor Turner, though I can't say I blame you."

Shelagh laughed at the mirth the younger nurse's voice and it gave her courage.

"He certainly has merits that Sister Evangelina lacks." Shelagh smirked. The two laughed at the implication.

"By the way," Trixie said with slight embarrassment, "I'm sorry about Sister Winifred."

"You knew?!" Shelagh gasped.

"You know better than anyone there are no secrets around here!" Trixie sassed. "It wasn't intentional. We tried to warn her that she should knock, but I think the Sisters had it in their heads that you wouldn't dare, well, you know, while you were here. You would think they'd have learned from Chummy and Peter…"

"Oh, I'm so embarrassed…" Shelagh stammered.

"You shouldn't have to be." Trixie insisted. "You're newly married and a blind man can see how in love you are. It's not your fault some are more willing to let go of Sister Bernadette than others."

"Thank you, Trixie." Shelagh said earnestly, though still slightly unsettled.

The front door opened and closed and Patrick made his way into the clinical room to clean out his bag.

"Hello, Patrick." Shelagh said shyly.

"Hello, darling." he beamed, then cleared his throat when he realized Trixie was also in the room. "Nurse Franklin."

"Evening, Doctor Turner." Trixie grinned saucily. "You know, I have to be on call anyway, I'm happy to put your instruments in when this round is done if you have more pressing matters to attend to."

Shelagh went bright red, but Patrick remained oblivious.

"That's very kind of you Nurse Franklin." he remarked semi-questioningly.

"It's no trouble at all." she replied, still giggling to herself. "After all _I_ have nothing better to do with everyone else out or asleep. I'll really just be here listening for the phone...or watching the door to see if anyone comes back...who might disturb the peace and quiet…"

Shelagh couldn't take it anymore.

"Yes, thank you Nurse Franklin, it really has been a long day, we're going to bed-to sleep-now have a goodnight." Shelagh sputtered out as she tugged a confused Patrick from the room and down the hall.

"What was that all about?" Patrick asked as Shelagh shut the door behind them.

"It doesn't matter." Shelagh insisted.

"Then why were you acting so strange-"

"Patrick, just shut up and kiss me."

He'd always been good at following instructions.

* * *

22 down, 28 to go! I can taste the halfway point!


	23. If You Insist

**Prompt 23:** "If you insist."

 **Summary:** Post 3x02 fic because I know I'm not the only one who wanted that scene to continue!

 **A/N:** I shifted the timeline of one scene so that I could write it into this episode, so sue me. :P Enjoy the slightly suggestive fluff!

 **Disclaimer:** I own nothing.

* * *

" _But, what about our lives?" Timothy asked._

" _Oh, I think we're going to be alright." his dad answered knowingly as he gently rubbed his mother's back._

"When do we have to say goodbye to Carol?" Timothy asked as he continued to observe the strange, but adorable creature in Shelagh's arms.

"They'll come pick her up in the morning." Shelagh responded. "She's only with us for the night, I'm afraid."

"Oh." Timothy sighed.

"You seem disappointed, son." Patrick observed.

Timothy looked up to find both his parents gazing expectantly at him. He supposed it would be alright to talk about this with them, but he wasn't sure how.

"Well, it's," he started, "it's nothing really."

"Tim, you know you can talk to us." Patrick encouraged. Shelagh proudly smiled at her husband. He and Timothy were making huge strides to strengthen their somewhat awkward relationship and she was thrilled. Timothy took a deep breath.

"Well, I think I'd rather like a sibling." he said with more confidence than he felt. The reaction from his parents was certainly not what he expected at all. He expected a long lecture about new responsibilities and changes a baby might bring, but he certainly didn't expect his father to burst out laughing and his mother to blush so profoundly that she buried her face in little Carol. "What's so funny?" he asked somewhat indignantly.

"Nothing, nothing." Patrick chuckled. "I just wasn't expecting a statement like that from someone who seems so against 'mushy stuff' as I believe you call it."

"Patrick!" Shelagh lightly smacked him in the arm and Timothy was thoroughly confused and slightly annoyed.

"What does mushy stuff" Timothy made a face, "have to do with anything?"

It took every bit of Patrick's willpower for him to not start laughing again.

"I'll tell you when you're a bit older, Tim." Patrick promised gleefully. "For now, what I will say is that your mother and I would also very much like for you to have a sibling and I think that's something we can work on."

Shelagh was going to add to his sentiment when she felt the hand that had been lovingly rubbing her back drift ever so slightly lower. Luckily, Timothy didn't notice at all.

"Do you mean it?" he asked excitedly. "I can have a little brother or sister?"

"Well, it's not really a matter of permission, persay," Patrick corrected with a grin, "but yes, I think a little brother or sister is definitely in the cards."

"That's brilliant!" Timothy exclaimed a little too loudly causing the previously-contented baby to let out a wail. "Oops."

"Well, there's your first lesson in babies, Timothy." Shelagh gently teased. "Come on, sweetheart, it's alright."

Shelagh stood and bounced the distraught Carol as she walked into the kitchen to prepare a bottle. Patrick and Timothy watched her with the baby, the former with a look of wondrous love and the latter with one of curiousity.

"Dad?" Timothy asked. "Did mummy ever want another baby?"

Patrick paused for a moment. Truth be told, he wasn't entirely surprised at the question, but he also hadn't thought about Marianne in that particular capacity in a very long time. She'd been sick for so long and he'd been so lost in his grief that it had been a while since he allowed himself to remember them as simple, loving parents in want of a child.

"I think we both did." he spoke slowly. "But sometimes, things just don't work out the way you expect. We were so thrilled to have you, though, and I think if any future little ones come around, your mummy would be so proud of the big brother you would be."

"Thanks, dad."

Father and son smiled.

"Off to bed now, it's getting late." Patrick instructed. Timothy gave his customary sigh, but made his way to his room. He was a little tired from the excitement.

Patrick waited until Tim turned the corner out of sight before he followed the sound of his wife humming into the kitchen. His smile could've lit the entirety of Poplar. She looked so perfectly in her element with baby Carol in her arms, bottle in her hand, and a sweet tune coming from her lips. She was born to be a mother, he thought, and he would do everything in his power to grant her wish for a child of their own.

"You're a natural." he sighed wistfully. Shelagh stopped humming and faced him shyly.

"Cynthia said the same thing at the clinic the other day." she said humbly.

"Well, she's right." he concurred. "You look so at home with a baby in your arms. I don't know how it took me so long to see it."

"It took me just as long, Patrick, and you were grieving. Neither of us was ready to admit our feelings before we did. I'm just glad we're here now." she smiled with pure love.

"Me too." he softly agreed with a kiss. "You realize our son has expectations now."

"Oh goodness, I can't believe you would torture him like that." she chided sweetly.

"He doesn't know what I was implying, Shelagh." Patrick laughed. "He's so horrified by the thought of us kissing that the idea of anything else would've sent him running for the hills."

"Oh, don't," she giggled, "we'll upset Carol." The young lady in question softly gurgled a bit and looked up at the man and woman whose eyes were filled with love before falling asleep. "I don't want to let her go." Shelagh admitted sadly.

"I know." Patrick slipped his arm around her waist protectively. "I promise, you won't have to let the next one go, not for a moment."

"Oh, and just how are you planning to keep that promise, Dr. Turner?" Shelagh asked with a mischievous smile. Patrick was momentarily stunned at the sly vixen before him, but two could play this game. He slid his arms fully around her so he could whisper in her ear.

"Why don't you lie the baby down and come find out, Mrs. Turner." Shelagh felt the familiar shiver ricochet down to her toes.

"If you insist, my love." she gasped. She let out a small whimper of disapproval when he let her go, but it disappeared quickly as he walked toward their bedroom with a wink. Carol was bound to need something in a couple of hours anyway, there wasn't really any point in them trying to sleep that night.

* * *

23 down, 27 to go! Hope you enjoy!


	24. You're Mine I Don't Share

**Prompt 24:** "You're mine. I don't share."

 **Summary:** Patrick has to leave on a conference, so Shelagh runs the surgery with a locum. Patrick really doesn't like it.

 **Disclaimer:** I own nothing except Dr. Gibson.

* * *

Patrick rolled over once again to look at the clock. 3am. He was going to be exhausted and irritable again when he woke up, but he couldn't help it. How could he possibly be expected to sleep when Shelagh was being forced to work in close quarters with Dr. 'I-qualified-first-in-my-class-aren't-I-impressive' Gibson. God, he hated that man. He would've hated leaving his wife with any of the locums - whether or not she wanted to admit it, she was a young, pretty nurse and he was a jealous man - but he'd despised Henry Gibson long before he'd ever met Shelagh.

The two of them were in medical school together and while Patrick spent most of his time studying and pursuing an honest passion for medicine, Henry spent his time skating through classes on his father's money, easy intelligence, and charm, and pursuing a less than honest passion for girls. It just so happened that Gibson was the only one available for the entire week that Patrick would be gone and so he reluctantly didn't have any choice except to hand over his surgery. The day Henry came to take over the reigns would be forever burned in his brain.

" _Shelagh, it's not too late. You could come with me to Liverpool." Patrick nearly begged._

" _I wish I could, Patrick, I really do, but I'm needed here. I know how much you don't want Dr. Gibson running about the surgery and I think you'll sleep better knowing I have everything in hand." she tried to reassure him._

" _I'll sleep better with you next to me instead of having to answer to that bastard's every beck and call." he muttered._

" _Patrick," she warned, "it's only for a week and I'd like to think you know me well enough by now that you know I won't let Dr. Gibson walk all over myself or the surgery."_

 _He sighed deeply._

" _I do you know you, love." he apologized. "I trust you wholeheartedly, I just don't like the idea of leaving you alone with him. You don't know what he's like."_

" _I managed Sister Evangelina and Sister Monica Joan perfectly well when I looked over Nonnatus, I'm sure he can't be any worse." she smirked._

 _He was going to argue with her. He was going to make her see reason and give her an extensive list of evidence to prove just how much of a rakish, lying, manipulative, bloody brilliant arse Henry was when the man in question waltzed through the doors of the surgery._

" _Ah, Patrick, long time, no see." Dr. Gibson strutted over and gave Patrick a heartier-than-called-for pat on the back._

" _Henry," Patrick forced himself to smile through his tensing jaw, "what a pleasure. May I introduce-"_

" _Of course, they told me I'd be working with another Turner. I say, you must be incredibly proud to have such a beautiful daughter taking up the family practice." he reached his hand out to take Shelagh's and gently brought it to his lips. "Dr. Henry Gibson, Ms. Turner. Pleasure to make your acquaintance."_

 _Patrick looked on the verge of a stroke, so Shelagh quickly interceded. Not that she would've blamed him for snapping and punching the man. He'd barely introduced himself and suddenly she was deeply regretting not going with Patrick to Brighton._

"Mrs. _Turner, Dr. Gibson. I run the surgery here in Poplar with my husband." Shelagh corrected with a hard stare._

" _Well, well, well, you've certainly done well for yourself, Patrick." Dr. Gibson sleazily suggested as he kept his eyes on Shelagh._

" _Shelagh, may I have a word in my office before I go?" Patrick instructed more than requested as he grabbed her arm and led her towards office before quickly shutting the door._

" _Patrick, I know what you're going to say, and you already know my answer." she stopped him before he could beg her once again to come with him. "It's the middle of the school term, it's too late to ask for help, and honestly, now that I've met him, I don't trust him with the nurses."_

" _You're a nurse!" Patrick shouted, completely frazzled._

" _I'm a happily married nurse." she corrected. "It's different."_

" _Not to him." he spat._

" _It is to_ me _." she insisted. Shelagh sat him down on the desk and stepped between his legs so she could hold him. Hands caressing his face, she stared determinedly into his eyes. "I love you, Patrick Turner. I know you're worried that he'll do something untoward, and I know that you trust that I won't, so I'm not angry with you. If he tries anything, I'll have him thrown out."_

 _Patrick hugged her close and let himself be comforted as he rested his head against hers and breathed her in._

" _I love you Shelagh Turner. I'm not just worried about him being untoward, I'm worried about how he'll handle the practice, I'm worried about him asking for more of your time than he's allowed, I'm just...I don't trust him. I never have."_

" _And you still don't have to." she said. "You don't have to trust him as a person and you don't have to speak to him again. All you have to do is trust that he'll do his duty as a doctor for a week and leave the rest up to me and the sisters and the nurses. You said yourself that despite everything, he's very intelligent. What he lacks in manners, we'll make up for."_

" _You really are a miracle, you know that?" he observed lovingly. She blushed. She wondered if she would ever learn to simply accept a compliment from him. "Will you call the hotel when you get home?"_

" _I'm already looking forward to it." she whispered. She gently pulled at the back of his head and met his lips with all the love and promises she didn't have time to speak. "Travel safely, my love."_

That was nearly a week ago and tomorrow couldn't come soon enough. One more morning of talks and then he could hurry home and kick Dr. Gibson out of his surgery literally and figuratively. Shelagh had gladly kept her promise and called him every night when she got home, but he still felt unsettled. It wasn't fair to her. He truly, absolutely, unequivocally trusted her and knew she would never even consider Dr. Gibson, but he knew his ex-classmate well and he couldn't shake the worry that he might hurt Shelagh or one of their colleagues. She didn't seem shaken on the phone. She was angry and frustrated, for sure, but not in the way she would be if he'd done something truly awful. Still, he needed to go home.

Patrick flew out of the departing luncheon so fast he wouldn't be surprised if everyone thought he was exceptionally rude and never invited him back. That would actually be fine, he thought. He would never have to be in this ghastly position again. Hours later, he haphazardly parked the MG back in Poplar and ran into the surgery to find it empty. He was thoroughly confused until he glanced at the calendar on Shelagh's desk and realized it was Tuesday afternoon. Damn, it was clinic and he'd completely forgotten.

Several honked horns and shouted curses later, he found himself at the community center.

He was about to walk through the door when Sister Winifred burst through it and nearly knocked him to the ground.

"Oh! Doctor Turner, I'm so sorry!" she quickly apologized and then seemed to truly realize who she was talking to. "Doctor Turner! You're back! Oh, thank heavens. You better go inside."

"Is everything alright?" he asked with significant concern.

"It was." she said sheepishly. "I think they held on as long as they could, but well…"

" _How dare you?"_ Sister Evangelina's voice echoed from inside. Patrick took a deep breath.

"Are you by any chance going to fetch Sister Julienne?" he asked hopefully.

"As quickly as I can." she answer affirmatively.

"Good. I'll see what I can do." It wasn't much, but it was all he had to offer before he hurried inside.

The scene that met him instantly assuaged any fears he'd ever had about Shelagh holding her own. All productive work had completely ceased as everyone watched Nurse Turner and Doctor Gibson practically scream at each other. Sister Evangelina had clearly come in a little later, but was now firmly on Shelagh's side. He'd never seen Shelagh genuinely angry before and while he was immensely proud, he was also a little frightened. He guessed the argument had something to do with Sister Mary Cynthia, who was standing behind Shelagh looking extremely uncomfortable.

 _Minutes prior:_

 _Dr. Gibson stormed over to Shelagh in the kitchen._

" _That's the fourth consultation Sister Mary Cindy's needed in an hour!" he shouted. Shelagh felt the familiar armour solidify in her skin. Normally, she wouldn't be so rattled, but it had been an unbearable week._

" _Sister Mary Cynthia, and I don't see what the problem is."_

" _What is the point of having all of you nurses if you can't even run a clinic without a consultation every five seconds?" he asked indignantly._

" _It is our job to call you for consultation when we feel it necessary!" she bit back._

" _You mean when you don't know the answer and you need your precious husband to do your job for you?" he snarled._

" _Doing our jobs for us?! The nurses and the Sisters have been swamped with additional cases this past week because you don't finish your rounds!" she nearly shrieked. She couldn't do it anymore._

" _I didn't qualify as a doctor to run around like an errand boy administering insulin shots!" he shouted. "Perhaps that's all Patrick thinks he's good for, but not me. God, I can't believe I ever agreed to come to a cesspool like Poplar."_

 _He turned and marched out of the kitchen, intent on leaving, but Shelagh was nowhere near done._

" _Doctor Turner is a good doctor because he values complex surgeries just as much as a simply shot and maybe you could learn something if you bothered to care about any of your patients!" she yelled._

" _Oh I'm sorry, I didn't realize part of the job was hand-holding." he mocked. "Maybe I should pay more attention to Sister Mary Clementine."_

" _Sister. Mary. Cynthia." Shelagh was shaking. "Who happens to be an extremely qualified nurse."_

" _An extremely qualified nurse who needs a consultation on a common venereal disease?" he laughed. "I guess I shouldn't be surprised. The worst mistake the national health made was allowing nuns to continue practice. You can't practice what you'll never understand."_

" _How dare you?" shouted Sister Evangelina. "She didn't ask for a consultation because she didn't know the bloody disease, she asked because she can't prescribe the antibiotics, you fool!"_

" _She could've written it up for me to deal with later."_

" _When?" she fumed. "When you're drinking in your office?"_

 _He stalked towards her._

"I would've thought a deflowered nun would be more forgiving of vices." he whispered menacingly, but loud enough that the people close by heard it all and gasped.

Shelagh's hand made contact with his face before she even knew she was moving. Patrick's jaw dropped, but he knew this was going to end badly if someone didn't stop them, so he only allowed a second of indulgent pride...and arousal?

"Why, you little-"

"I'd be very careful about the next word that comes out of your mouth, Henry." Patrick warned.

All eyes turned to Patrick.

"Turner." Dr. Gibson fell immediately back into his deceitful persona. "Welcome back."

"Interesting welcome to come back to." Patrick quipped.

"Yes, well, you're little wife's a bit of a fire cracker." he joked sinsterly.

"Henry, I've known Shelagh for over a decade and I've never seen her so much as hit a fly, so whatever you did, if it was enough to make her slap you, it was enough for me to do much worse. I suggest you leave now that your services are no longer required." Patrick waited for some annoyingly clever remark, but it never came. Humiliated for possibly the first time, he grabbed his medical bag and stormed from the hall.

"I never thought I'd be happy to see you, Patrick, but welcome home." Sister Evangelina gave him an affectionate pat on the shoulder and started yelling at everyone to get back to work.

Shelagh and Patrick stared at each other before desperately trying to hide their laughter.

"I think that's the first time she's ever touched me." he remarked cheekily.

"Don't get any ideas, Patrick." she teased.

"Never," he heartily agreed. "So long as you don't go chasing after anymore doctors."

Shelagh looked at him incredulously.

"Were you actually worried I would run off with _that_?"

"I can't help my jealous nature, love. You're mine, I don't share." he enhanced the statement with sweet kisses to her forehead until she smiled.

"You'll never have to, my love." she promised with a quick kiss to his lips that was not nearly long enough for what she wanted to say.

They both made their way towards the intake table so Shelagh could get him caught up on the day's cases. She picked up her clipboard, looked up at his expectant face, and rolled her eyes.

"Once." she relented. "You can say it once."

"I told you so." he whispered. He would pay for that later.

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24 down, 26 to go! Hope you enjoy!


	25. Where do you Think You're Going?

**Prompt 25:** "Where do you think you're going?"

 **Summary:** It's Angela's first date and certain people aren't handling it well.

 **A/N:** I'm sorry I died! Life got in the way, but I'm going to do my best to at least do one a week. Thank you all for your incredible support of my writing! Also, Shelagh's trick with her daughter is something my mom did with me when I didn't want to talk, but she needed to know what was going on. I always thought it worked really well. :)

 **Disclaimer:** I own nothing.

* * *

"So that's 16 and 8, which is 24 points for me!" Teddy exclaimed. Patrick nodded in acknowledgment, but his focus remained on the window. "Dad, come on, you're not even trying."

"I thought I was done with cheek when your brother went to university…" Patrick murmured under his breath.

"I heard that." Teddy quipped.

"Teddy, leave your father alone. He has a lot on his mind tonight." Shelagh gently reminded with a smile as she brought a fresh cup of tea to their table and placed it in front of her fretting husband.

"Shelagh, you didn't have to do that, I have tea." Patrick pointed out.

"That you haven't drank in nearly two hours, dearest. It's not tea anymore." she corrected, pulling the now-cold cup away from him and nudging the warm one closer. "Now, who's winning?"

"Do you have to ask?" Teddy grinned.

Shelagh looked at her son pointedly, but then glanced at the score sheet and laughed. It was true, Patrick normally went easy on Teddy in Scrabble, but the boy was up by nearly 70 points and Patrick didn't even seem to care.

"Not your finest game, Patrick." Shelagh observed, thoroughly amused.

"Can I help it if I'm a little distracted?" He replied defensively.

"Because Angela might do mushy stuff?" Teddy asked.

"Who told you that?!" Patrick whipped his head around to fully face the youngest Turner. Teddy leaned back a bit from his seemingly insane father.

"Tim. Last week." Teddy explained hurriedly. "I told him Angela was going to the pictures with a boy and that you two were all out of sorts about it and he said it was probably because you didn't want Angela doing mushy stuff."

Patrick was at a loss for words, but Shelagh burst out laughing.

"What's so funny?" Teddy questioned cautiously.

"Your brother and his authority on the subject of 'mushy stuff' as you like to call it." Shelagh giggled.

Patrick was going to respond, but the muffled sounds of two teenagers outside the house quickly killed his train of thought.

"Dad-"

"Shh!" Patrick waved his hand at Shelagh and Teddy, telling them to be quiet before standing up, but Shelagh would have none of it.

"Patrick Turner, where do you think you're going?" Shelagh asked insistently.

"Where do you think?" he replied without looking at her as he made his way towards the door.

"Are we going to spy on Angela?" Teddy asked a little too excitedly. "Can I come?"

"No!" Shelagh replied firmly to Teddy. "And absolutely not. Patrick, sit down." She tried to stop him, but he was already at the door. She ran over to pull his hand away from the handle and drag him into the kitchen.

"I will not let you embarrass her like that." Shelagh admonished.

"Shelagh, how can you not want to know?" he asked exasperatedly.

"I do want to know, but I want to know because my daughter trusts me enough to tell me, not because I eavesdropped on her first date." she insisted. "You know, you weren't like this when Tim went out with Caroline for the first time."

"That was different." he deflected.

"How?" she probed.

"It just...was." he finished lamely.

"Patrick, I know you love our daughter," she smiled, "but she's a fifteen year old girl. Possessive father or no possessive father, she has to spread her wings."

"How long have you been waiting to throw that back at me?" he asked wryly.

"Oh, only about 15 years." Shelagh smirked. "Patrick, stop worrying. She's a smart girl on a first date, let her be."

"I suppose…" he was still extremely unsure. Shelagh glanced past him towards the door.

"Well, if it's any consolation, anything you didn't hear will be immediately repeated by your nosy son."

Patrick turned to see Teddy, ear pressed against the front door, a look of fierce concentration on his face. Suddenly, the door opened and Teddy fell backward. Angela Turner looked down at her brother and rolled her eyes before marching upstairs. On the way up, she paused and held out her right arm so that Shelagh could see. Mother and daughter shared a secretive smile and Angela scurried away.

"What was that about?" Patrick inquired. "Don't we get to ask how it went?"

"No need." Shelagh answered contentedly. "I gave her one of my bracelets before she left and told her to wear it home. Right arm for 'it went well', left arm for 'it went badly'. She'll tell us more when she's ready. I know what it is to have everyone demanding to know your secrets"

Patrick beamed.

"You really are a miracle of a mother, you know that, right?"

Shelagh blushed.

"I don't have much advice for her in terms of dating. I didn't want to come off overly concerned and have her be angry with me." Shelagh admitted.

"Like me, you mean?" Patrick teased. Shelagh went to protest, but he silenced her coming apology with a kiss. "Darling, I know I was being over protective. I don't think I'll ever be able to stop where she's concerned, but I'm aware of it. And, if I may say so, you have may not have much dating experience, but I don't think any girl in the country has a better role model of a wife and mother."

Shelagh pulled him back down to her and indulged herself in a longer kiss.

"Ugh, never mind Angela, there's enough mushy stuff in this house already." Teddy grumbled as he walked past the kitchen.

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HALF. WAY. POINT. 25 down, 25 to go! Enjoy!


	26. Cuddle Me

**Prompt 26** : "Cuddle Me"

 **Summary:** Shelagh has a request for Patrick. **M-RATED. LIKE SUPER M-RATED. THIS IS YOUR MULTIPLE KETTLES WARNING.**

 **A/N:** Hoo boy, okay, so, I'm posting this and running away because I have no idea how it will be received, but recently a saw a post discussing the idea of Turnadette and dominance and then I rewatched the Season 2 Christmas special where Shelagh says "there were rules in the religious life" and it got me thinking about how rules probably make Shelagh feel safe when she doesn't know what to do despite her fiestyness and now here we are. It's still fully in-character Turnadette, so it's in no way a full on, hardcore BDSM chapter, but it does deal with the ideas of dominance and submission as well as finding identity in sexuality, so if that's something you're uncomfortable with, skip this one! There will be 24 more, I will not be offended.

 **Disclaimer:** I own nothing. Also just reiterating that this one is M-RATED and you should read the author's note.

* * *

She was constantly nervous now after Timothy went to bed and they found themselves alone in their flat. She wasn't scared of Patrick, not at all, especially not after the way he'd made their wedding night, and nearly every night following it, so loving and beautiful. She knew he would never hurt her, that the very thought of hurting her made him ill, so she had no reason to fear him. She was, however, constantly nervous that she was doing something wrong or that she could be doing more.

Every other aspect of her life had always had rules. When she was little, she had the rules of her parents, in school, she had her teachers, as a nurse, she had her matrons, and as a nun, she had her senior sisters and God. True, there was always a rebellious streak in her that bent and broke those rules when she felt it was called for, but the only thing that gave her that bravery was the existence of the rules themselves. Marriage, and especially marital relations, it seemed, had no rules. The only thing Patrick would ever tell her was to 'do what felt good and to follow her instincts', but that was terrifying. What if she did something he didn't like? What if she did something she liked and he thought it was strange or humorous and it embarrassed her? What if he got bored because she was too scared to try the things that flitted occasionally into her mind?

All she wanted was guidance, but there was no one to get guidance from, and she couldn't ask Patrick because he'd simply tell her he was in awe that he got to have her at all and while flattering, that was extremely unhelpful. Meanwhile, he was looking at her from his relaxed place on the couch with his cigarette and a look in his eye that said he really wanted his mouth to be occupied somewhere else.

How did he do that? How did he managed to turn her into a pile of nerves with a single glance while he appeared completely calm and collected. It was truly unfair.

She didn't have much time to mull further on that, though, as he put his cigarette out in the ashtray and made his way over to her. Suddenly, piling clean dishes was incredibly interesting.

"Feeling tired, love?" he asked as he gently massaged her shoulders. "You seem a little off tonight."

A part of her was furious with him. He was genuinely concerned about her and wasn't even letting his hands wander the way they normally would if he wanted to push for more, but she was still instantly alight from the feel of his fingers. It was maddening. She knew exactly where they would end up shortly, she knew exactly where she _wanted_ them to end up shortly, but she couldn't voice it and it would take twice as long now that Patrick thought something was wrong. He definitely wasn't going to coax her up the stairs if he thought she needed to talk and she did need to talk, but she also need to just-

"Tell me what to do." she whispered. Her stomach fell to the floor when she realized she'd said it out loud and in a tone she'd never heard herself use outside of their bedroom. His fingers paused.

"I'm sorry, what was that?" he asked just as quietly. She couldn't tell if he honestly hadn't heard her or if he just wanted her to repeat it. Either way, standing frozen and silent wasn't going to get them anywhere fast and she couldn't help the rush of erotic calm that settled over her at the thought of him instructing her.

She put down the plate she was holding, but she couldn't turn to face him.

"I want…" she tried, but she was having a difficult time reconciling her embarrassment and her need. Patrick slowly turned her so she was facing him and raised her chin so she had to look at him.

"Shelagh, what do you want? You can tell me. You can tell me anything." he encouraged.

"I want you to tell me what to do." she said as clearly as she could while her voice wobbled.

Patrick felt her admission soar through his blood, but he needed to be exactly sure of what she was asking. She might not even be aware of what she was asking for.

"You never want me to tell you what to do." he gently teased, hoping a break in the tension would rile her up a bit. He was right.

"I don't mean in general, Patrick," she quickly corrected with an unimpressed glare. The brief fire in her eyes dimmed again when she realized she was going to have to put a name to what she wanted before he would dare do it. He let her gaze fall and watched her fingers flex against his jumper as she tried to find the words. "I told you once that there were rules in the religious life and that now I was going to have to make my own. I didn't realize how hard that was going to be."

He wanted to interrupt her and tell her that she was doing an incredible job of navigating marriage and motherhood and her new status in Poplar, but she'd started talking and he didn't want to risk that she might stop.

"Being with you is more than I'd ever dreamed of, but I still feel so lost." she continued. He was immediately concerned and did need to interject.

"Darling, you would tell me if you were ever unhappy, right? If I ever hurt you?" he asked fearfully.

She smiled, she knew him so well.

"You've never hurt me, Patrick, and I don't believe you ever would." she paused. "There's just so much I don't know and sometimes it's overwhelming and I just...I just wish you would tell me what to do...exactly what to do...with you...for you…"

Patrick felt his pants tightening with her every word. He was slightly surprised at his body's reaction. It wasn't that he didn't know anything about dominant and submissive sexual behavior. He'd heard just about everything there was to hear about sex during the army - in such circumstances, secrets were very rarely sacred - but he never thought of himself as having those desires. He couldn't remember ever feeling this way with Marianne, but honestly that might have been because it never came up. Would he have ever thought about it with Shelagh if she hadn't accidentally brought it up? Did she even know it was something people did with each other? He couldn't imagine she did. He also couldn't imagine that she wanted it to go any further than exactly what she was asking of him, but with the visceral response he seemed to be having, he didn't know if he trusted himself.

"And you would…" he trailed off himself, suddenly as nervous as her, "...you would do whatever I said?" His palms itched and he opened and closed his fists rapidly by his side to keep from touching her. The tension between them was drawn so tight and he was almost too scared to break it.

Shelagh finally raised her eyes to meet his, her confidence oddly growing from the idea of not having to make a single decision. "I trust you, Patrick. I would do whatever you said." she promised.

He broke.

He pulled her face towards him so fast she gasped. He had to kiss her. He had to release some of the desire she'd piled up inside him before he ruined everything and took her on the dinner table. She met his lips with everything she had. She needed him to know not only how much she loved him, but how much his acceptance of her meant. After a few minutes of tongues, and teeth, and far too much desperation, he pushed her away from him and stepped back to collect himself.

"Patrick?" she questioned, still somewhat lost in the haze of their kiss.

"Go upstairs." he gently ordered. "Take off everything except your bra and panties and wait for me there."

The combination of calm, safety, and arousal that spread through her body at his instructions shocked her a bit, but she loved it. She could feel the small nagging in the back of her head that she didn't have to listen to him, but that was just it, she _wanted_ to listen to him. She nodded with a small, shy smile and headed up the stairs.

When she was out of sight, Patrick let out the breath he wasn't sure how long he'd been holding. This was...incredibly arousing, but they were both in uncharted territory and he didn't want to push too far. He breathed deeply while he racked his brain for every nugget of useful information he had on the subject. He needed a way to know if she wanted to stop. Or to let her know that he needed to stop. Somewhere in the dark recesses of his mind, he recalled an army buddy telling him about visiting a professional and something about safety words? Was that it? Yes, they needed a word that wasn't 'no'. He didn't think his heart could bear hearing her say no, especially if he was the cause. He needed to remember that this wasn't what his friends had bragged about in Italy. Shelagh wasn't asking for the things his pals had claimed they'd been asked for. She didn't want to be punished or humiliated (which was good, because he didn't think he could manage that), she just wanted to completely let go of control. He could understand that. He could give that to her.

In the darkness of their bedroom, Shelagh felt an odd sense of serenity as she unbuttoned her blouse and unzipped her skirt. She hadn't turned the light on, but she wasn't sure if it was out of her remaining nerves or because he hadn't specific a preference. If she was being honest with herself, she liked the idea of being in the dark, but she didn't want to express her opinion that night. Naked besides her bra and panties, she lay back on the bed and removed her glasses. Lying there in complete silence and near nudity, she felt more exposed than she had the first time Patrick undressed her, but her body was humming in anticipation.

She felt, as well as heard, the moment Patrick opened the door.

"Shelagh, I'm going to turn on the light, but I want you to close your eyes." he spoke softly. She did as he said and felt her body tense slightly when she knew he could see her, but she couldn't see him. He was still standing by the door. "Good, now sit up and keep your eyes closed." Again, she obeyed and she heard him walk across the room towards her. She felt the bed dip as he sat next to her and everything felt ten times as sensitive when he reached out cup her face.

"Keep your eyes closed, but listen to me." she nodded, unsure if she should speak. "I want you to know that I will never force you to do anything you're uncomfortable with. If I tell you to do something tonight and you don't want to, I want you to say 'apple' and I'll stop. Do you understand?" she nodded again. "Yes or no, Shelagh, I need to hear you say it."

"Yes, I understand. 'Apple' if I want to stop." she whispered.

"That's my girl. Same for me, alright, if you hear me say 'apple', it means I need to stop. Do you understand?"

"Yes."

"Good." with her acceptance and the shivers he could see along her skin, he allowed himself to fully take in the vision before him. She was truly stunning, even if she'd never believe it. He didn't want her to feel nervous or unsure with him and if this was how she wanted to tackle that, then he wanted to make this as incredible for her as possible. He reached for the scarf he'd grabbed on his way up.

"Lean forward." he instructed. She bent towards him and his pulse raced. He lifted the hand that wasn't holding the scarf and slowly pulled out her hair pins, loving the way each lock of hair fell against her skin. He raked his fingers through her honey-colored waves and kissed the top of her head before bringing the scarf to her eyes. She jumped a bit at the foreign feel of the fabric, but she didn't protest, so he tied it securely around her head. Her breathing quickened and he felt another surge of arousal course through him. She was enjoying this.

"I don't want you to worry about what you see, or what you say, or what you touch." he whispered directly against her ear as she shivered. "I just want you to feel and do exactly as I say." He finally let his lips meet her neck and she groaned in appreciation. With her sight gone, he was so much softer, warmer, closer, than ever before. He bit down against her shoulder and she yelped, but pushed her shoulder close to his mouth to silently urge him to do it again.

He readily obliged. Her body knew what it wanted even if she didn't and he was so very, very eager to learn. He stood and pulled her with him so that she was sitting on the edge of the bed. His hands caressed her face and he leaned down to kiss her before guiding her hands to the front of his pants. They'd done this once or twice before, but she'd been so self-conscious and he wanted to see what this Shelagh would do differently.

"Take them off." he grunted. Her relaxed, obedient fingers quickly did away with his button and zipper and pulled until his trousers fell around his ankles. He groaned in relief as his cock was freed and dragged her fingers back up his legs to the elastic of his shorts. "Them too."

Shelagh's head was reeling. The dichotomy of what they were doing was intensely pleasurable. It was everything she wanted to do to him, but it didn't have to be her choice or her responsibility. It was okay for her to falter because she was simply following instructions, she wasn't exposing her own desires. He was making order of the chaos in her head and it was everything.

She slipped his shorts over his length and waited with baited breath for her next task, though she knew exactly what she wanted it to be.

"Take me in your mouth." he tried so hard to put authority into the order, but his voice was breathy with need. Luckily, she didn't seem to mind. She leaned forward and found her way with her tongue until she could gently suck the head of him into her mouth. His hands fisted in her hair. "Use your hands too, Shelagh." She slowly raised her hands, impeded by her blindfold, but it was too slow for him. He grabbed one of her hands and placed it between his legs so she could rub his sack and roughly put the other just beneath her mouth. "Deeper, Shelagh." His hips bucked and she heartily took more of him into her mouth. In the back of his mind, he noticed that instead of calling her darling or sweetheart, like he normally did, he only wanted to call her by her name. He wanted her to know that it was _her_ that was doing these things to him.

Shelagh moaned around him and was so pleased at the sounds he was making and that she was able to follow his rules that she forgot to be self-conscious at the way the act made her drool a bit or that she wasn't supposed to enjoy a sexual act that had nothing to do with procreation and that wasn't even about pleasuring her. She loved the way Patrick thrust into her mouth. She loved the way he tasted and smelled. She loved that she could make him happy.

The rhythm of his hips faltered and she knew he was close, but he hadn't told her to stop, so she didn't. He desperately wanted to come in her mouth, but it would end the night too soon and he didn't want that for her. He pushed her off of him a little rougher than he normally would and she fell back on the bed. He quickly followed her and let his hands indulge every curve that greeted him from her hips, to her stomach, to her pert breasts still hidden by her simple white bra.

"I love undressing you." he admitted as he pawed at the straps. "I love knowing that you were so covered for so long and I'm the only one who gets to know what you look like uncovered."

She whimpered at his words and unconsciously thrust her hips up towards him. He gave into her unspoken want and ground his hips against hers, easing some of the pent up ache in her core. It would be so easy to rip off her panties and plunge inside of her, but he wanted to see if she would push her limits under the protection of his orders. "Get on top of me." he demanded.

She would've flown to the moon if he'd asked her to. He rolled off her and she immediately climbed on top of him. Her blindfold forced her to use her hands more than she might have and he grinned, pulling her flush against his shirt-clad chest. "Put me inside of you, Shelagh." he ordered.

She was nearly crying in need of release, and she desperately felt her way down his body until she could wrap her hand around him and sink down. He threw his hand against her mouth she was so loud. He didn't think she even needed the coaxing at this point, but he loved what it did to her.

"Move." he insisted. She gently started rocking against him, but it wasn't nearly what either of them wanted. "Faster, Shelagh." She pushed herself up and down and felt her thighs burning, but everything else was burning as well, so she couldn't complain.

"Patrick." she gasped.

"Come, Shelagh, now." he forced out as he felt himself be pulled under his own waves of pleasure. Her body seized around him and he held tight to her as they rode it out.

Neither spoke for several minutes as their breathing returned to normal. Finally, Shelagh raised herself off of him and stood up.

"Are you alright?" he asked worriedly. She didn't answer. Instead, she removed her bra and panties completely and crawled back into bed next to him.

"Cuddle me?" she asked softly.

"Are you asking or instructing?" he joked. She let a smile grace her face at his appalling sense of humor as he pulled her close and didn't make her answer.

"Darling, truly, are you alright?" he asked earnestly.

"I'm…" she paused, "I'm wonderful, Patrick." she sighed happily. The small knot of concern in his chest vanished.

"Do you think it's something you would want to do again?" he asked, though he wasn't sure which of them he was asking for.

"Yes." she stated confidently. She was radiant he couldn't have been more filled with love for her. "But I want to do it because I want it, not because I need it." she clarified.

"You know, you're more than welcome to do things because you need them…" he suggested cheekily.

"I think I know that now." she whispered before claiming his lips once more.

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26 down, 24 to go! This nonsense hit 3,500 words and is officially the longest chapter, lol.


	27. You're Blushing

**Prompt 27:** "You're blushing"

 **Summary:** Timothy has big plans for after the wedding. A bit more Shimothy than Turnadette, but I really like this one. Also I love embarrassing Timothy.

 **A/N:** Hey guys! I realized if you're not on tumblr, it probably looks like I died. I didn't! I just have a crazy schedule until after December 31st, so updates will only be coming once a week. I am still full of love for Turnadette and have every intention of completing this series.

 **Disclaimer:** I own nothing.

* * *

Timothy Turner was full of plans. There were so many projects and dreams he'd forgotten about or pushed to the side when his mother died and he had to take over caring for his heartbroken father, but now, with Shelagh, he felt them all resurfacing. He was still recovering from Polio, so he wasn't quite as mobile as he would've liked, but Shelagh was happy to help him and between the two of them, the flat had never been so full of intrigue and excitement.

Shelagh was also in a better mood than she had been about the wedding. He supposed it had to do with her and his dad deciding to have a real wedding (with all the "frills" as the nurses said), but he couldn't be sure. He did know her new dress was going to be white and he was glad of that. She really didn't seem to like her grey dress very much.

The day before had been a big day for the two of them. Shelagh had been helping him walk in circles around the garden. On their third circle, she paused.

 _"_ _What is it?" Timothy asked, concerned._

 _"_ _I just noticed that patch over there." She pointed to a dry, abandoned area that Timothy himself had nearly forgotten about._

 _"_ _Oh," he spoke softly, "that was Mum's garden."_

 _"_ _Oh." Shelagh sighed. "I'm sorry, Tim, we don't have to talk about it."_

 _"_ _No, no!" he insisted. "It's okay. I like talking about her. Dad is still quiet about it all, but I like it. It helps me remember."_

 _"_ _I completely understand." Shelagh assured. Truly, she did. She'd felt the same way when she lost her own mother. "Did she like to garden?" she asked as they continued their walk._

 _"_ _She loved it. She never allowed dad in there. She used to say if he couldn't be trusted around ingredients in the kitchen, he couldn't be trusted around them out of the kitchen either. I think she just liked having it be hers. She let me help though."_

 _"_ _You gardened with her?" Shelagh asked, impressed. Tim had always shown more prowess with home keeping than Patrick, but she didn't realize it was because his mother had taught him._

 _"_ _Mmmhmm." He hummed in reply before going quiet. "I miss it sometimes. Just me and Mum."_

 _Shelagh thought long and hard about her next words, but decided the risk was worth it._

 _"_ _Well, maybe after the wedding, the two of us can start a new one next to hers?" Shelagh tentatively suggested._

 _Timothy lit up._

 _"_ _That would be smashing!" he shouted excitedly. "Can we grow carrots? Dad hates carrots and it'll make him so mad when he has to eat them because he wouldn't say no to something we grew ourselves." He laughed._

 _Shelagh felt happy tears of acceptance brimming behind her eyes, but she forced them away. She'd been crying for all kinds of reasons lately and she knew it worried Timothy horribly._

 _"_ _We can grow whatever you want, Timothy dearest." She promised_.

His plan was fully in motion. He knew Shelagh was constantly worrying about figuring out her place in their family and in Poplar now that she was no longer Sister Bernadette and this would be the perfect way to welcome her to their home after the wedding. He'd talked to Fred and gotten all sorts of information about what to plant, and when to plant it, and what soils to use. He was thrilled. Now, he just had to tell his Dad his plan so he could surprise Shelagh on her first night as Mrs. Turner.

"Tim, I'm home!" Patrick called out as he burst through the door and quickly shut it against the February chill.

"You're early." Tim observed with a quirk of a smile.

"Miracles do happen, son." Patrick smirked back. "When did Shelagh leave?"

"Just a bit ago. She wanted to wait for you, but Mrs. Noakes called and said it was an emergency about her dress. We went to Nonnatus today." He mentioned.

"Oh good, you're getting out and about. How did your legs feel?" Patrick asked, slipping into GP mode.

"Fine, Dad…" Timothy sighed. "That's not the point. I talked to Fred about a wedding present for Mum."

Patrick eye brows shot up. He didn't know Timothy was calling Shelagh Mum, but it warmed his heart measurably.

"Oh?"

"Yes! Fred's going to give me all the materials so that after the wedding, when we all come home, Mum and I can plant the first seeds in our garden to welcome her home! It'll be a surprise!" Tim finished excitedly, not noticing the look on Patrick's face.

"Huh." Patrick murmured. "And, when you talked to Fred, did you mention you wanted to do this the night of the wedding?"

"I don't think so." Tim replied. "Why does it matter?"

"Tim." Patrick paused. He loved his son's idea and it would mean the world to Shelagh, but there was absolutely no way Shelagh was spending their wedding night with his son in the dirt in their backyard. They could have their mother-son bonding time the following day. "You see, the thing is, it's a beautiful idea and I think Shel-Mum is really going to love it, but traditionally, the bride and groom spend the night after the wedding alone together."

"Oh." Tim slightly deflated. "But, that's only traditionally. I mean, you don't _have_ to. Mum's not exactly a traditional bride."

"Yes, I know." Patrick laughed. "And I also realize most couples don't already have a child when they marry, but Shelagh's going to be making a big adjustment to how she lives and having that night for just the two of us is going to be a big help for her."

"Well, that's how I came up with my idea!" Tim exclaimed. "It'll make her feel welcome. Like she's part of the family, officially!"

Patrick took a deep breath. Why wasn't there a way to simply tell his son that he needed him out of the flat because it was getting harder and harder not to just pin Shelagh down on the couch?

"Tim, I really don't want to disappoint you, but you're going to have to welcome her to the family the next day. You'll be staying at Jack's that night…" he said delicately.

"What? Why?" Timothy asked indignantly.

The Turner men heard the door open and both turned to see Shelagh, back from Chummy's.

"Oh good, Patrick, you're here. I'm sorry I had to leave, there was a problem with my dress and Chummy said it couldn't wait and why are you both looking at me like that?" she asked as she took in their serious-conversation faces.

"Dad says I can't stay here after the wedding!" Tim cried out.

"What are you talking about?" Shelagh asked, confused. "We're not sending you to the orphanage, Timothy."

"No," he explained, "I mean that night. He said I have to go to Jack's. I don't want to go to Jack's! I want to be here with you!"

Shelagh looked back and forth between Tim and Patrick trying to figure out whose face was funnier: Tim's because he didn't understand that he really didn't want to be in the flat on their wedding night or Patrick's because he was desperately trying to convince his son without actually telling him the blunt truth. Finally, she simply smiled.

"I want you to be here too, Timothy dearest, but your father and I need a bit of time by ourselves after the wedding." She explained patiently.

"But I planned a surprise." Tim said sadly. Shelagh's heart broke, but she knew he couldn't be there.

"Oh Tim." Shelagh pulled him close. "That's so wonderfully thoughtful. I'll tell you what. What if we spend the night before the wedding together? I can't see your father because it's bad luck, but what if he went out somewhere," she looked pointedly at Patrick, "and we shared your surprise then?"

Tim smiled.

"I think...that'd be really good." He decided. "Dad?"

"I'm happy to make myself scarce for my two favorite people." Patrick assured warmly.

"Thanks Dad!" Tim hugged them both and hobbled to his room.

Shelagh and Patrick burst out laughing.

"You're blushing." Patrick teased.

"Well we couldn't tell him the real reason we wanted him gone, Patrick." She muttered with her eyes down. He stood up and gathered her in his arms.

"And what reason would that be, love?" he asked knowingly.

She glared at him briefly before bringing herself to meet him in a shy kiss.

"I think you know that better than I do." She teased before flitting away to the kitchen.

Patrick was definitely not going to make it two more weeks.

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27 down, 23 to go! Hope you enjoy!


	28. You're So Very Adorable

**Prompt 28:** "You're so (fucking) adorable." Taking the liberty of changing this one to "You're so very adorable" because Turnadette.

 **Summary** : Missing scene from the 2017 Christmas special because omg we got so much Turnadette inspiration!

 **Disclaimer** : I own nothing.

* * *

Shelagh was so tired between Teddy, and the surgery, and the added stress of the snow crisis that when Patrick hadn't come to bed that night, she just assumed he was still working and didn't bother to check downstairs. She missed being curled around him (and his warmth), but the truth was that even if he had come up, they still would have been woken every few hours by Teddy and she was only five weeks recovered from giving birth to their little miracle, so any private holiday celebrations were out of the question.

"Only one more week…" she couldn't help herself from longing. She felt fine, but she knew they should heed the standard warning if for nothing else than the fact that they still hadn't had the now-necessary talk about contraception. The Shelagh of four years ago would have simply accepted any future pregnancies as gifts from God and never questioned it. The Shelagh who was now a mother of a teenager, a toddler, and a newborn had a few minor concerns...but that would have to wait. For now, it was 5:30 in the morning and Teddy was due for feeding.

"Come here, sweet boy." Shelagh cooed as she bent over the cot and lovingly lifted the fussing baby. She brought him back to the bed and smiled as he latched on and she checked her watch. "Right on time, little one. It's good to know you're not completely your father's son." Later in the day, she would occasionally rest her eyes as he fed and grab a few moments of peace, but the early mornings belonged to her and Teddy. When Angela and Tim were still asleep, and Patrick was working or snoring softly beside them, she could take the time to study her precious bundle. She loved watching the way his tiny mouth made the smallest sucking sounds and the way his chubby fingers flexed against the air. His eyes were solidly brown now, but his hair was still up for debate. She knew Patrick hoped their son would go Tim's route and get his mother's tameable locks instead of his own unruly mess, but Shelagh secretly hoped she would get to see Teddy running rampant with Patrick's flop of dark hair bouncing as he went.

At almost exactly 5:45, Teddy let go of her breast with a tiny sigh and smacked his lips as he looked up at her as if to say 'next please, mummy!'. Shelagh giggled and gently turned him so he could latch onto her left side instead and shook her head when he immediately did so without any encouragement. He truly was as good as gold.

When he'd finished, Shelagh wiped his contented mouth and bundled them both up so they could go get breakfast started. She expected the mess of the sitting room she hadn't bothered to tidy the day before. What she didn't expect to see, was Patrick, bent over fast asleep at the table, face resting uncomfortably on Angela's magic bean costume, which, while finished, was now sporting a rather impressive drool mark.

"Oh dear, Teddy, what happened to Daddy?" she laughed. "Patrick." she prodded his shoulder as she whispered his name, but he didn't move. "Patrick." she tried again, slightly louder. He stirred slightly and she waited with amused patience as he slowly woke and realized where he was.

"Shelagh?" he slurred sleepily. "What time is it?"

"It's 6am, dearest." she grinned. "You fell asleep."

"Oh." he slowly realized what he'd been doing previously. "Oh no, Shelagh, I'm sorry. I meant to clean everything up when I was finished, I didn't mean to leave more work." he gestured sadly to the crafting explosion on the table.

"Patrick, it's fine." she assured. "Honestly, I'm impressed you finished the bean costume." she only somewhat teased - domestic crafts were not his forte.

"Believe me, it was far easier than sewing Mrs. Carson back up after that nine pounder yesterday." he grumbled. "Sorry, that was a bit crass." he apologized at her raised eyebrow.

"It was, but we're both exhausted, so I think you're excused." Shelagh kissed his forehead and her bending over alerted Teddy to his father's presence as he eagerly reached out. "I think someone wants his daddy." Shelagh smiled. The sight of his smiling baby boy instantly brightened Patrick and he took Teddy happily.

"Hello, young man." Patrick greeted as he bounced his son. "How was breakfast?"

"Exactly on time, as usual." Shelagh replied proudly.

"Oh good, he takes after his mother." Patrick quipped.

"Mummy! Daddy!" Angela cried out as she ran down the stairs.

"Angela Turner, do not run down those stairs. We've talked about this." Shelagh scolded.

"Sorry, mummy." Angela apologized softly, but immediately bounced back to her original train of thought. "It's bean day!" she shouted. Patrick and Shelagh both laughed and her nervous enthusiasm.

"That's right, Angel girl." Patrick held up his creation proudly after handing Teddy back to Shelagh. "And look what we have for you!"

"Bean!" Angela screamed excitedly as she clamored onto Patrick's lap to get a closer look at her costume. Shelagh and Patrick watched as their daughter thoroughly studied her burlap sack in quiet contemplation before declaring, "No bean."

"No bean?" Shelagh asked in confusion. Angela had been so excited just a moment before.

"No bean, mummy! No bean!" Angela cried.

Patrick looked up at his wife in horror. "Is it the costume?" he asked, terrified. "Did I mess it up?"

"I don't think so." Shelagh said, realizing. "Angela, are you afraid to be in Jack and the Beanstalk?"

Angela looked at Shelagh with big, scared eyes.

"No bean, mummy. Please!"

"Oh sweetheart, what happened? You were so excited to be a magic bean the other day." Shelagh realized that wasn't entirely true as she said it. Angela was excited the other day, but it was because they thought the pantomime had been canceled. How could she not have noticed that her daughter had terrible stage fright?

Angela continued to shake her head and mutter 'no bean' until Patrick was struck with inspiration. He picked up the sparkly bean headband and quickly put it on, wincing a bit at the child-size tightness.

"Look, Angela, Daddy bean!" Patrick exclaimed. Angela looked up and giggled at the sight of her dad with a big sparkling bean on top of his head.

"Daddy bean!" she repeated back to him as she pointed and laughed.

"Can we be beans together, love?" he asked his daughter. "Can you wear the bean sack and I can wear the hat?"

Angela pondered for a moment before she grabbed her sack and held it out to Patrick.

"Help?" she indicated. Patrick beamed and eagerly helped her into the arm and head holes. She looked down at herself and up at Patrick. "Mummy, two beans!"

Shelagh was smiling so wide, she felt her face might break.

"Two beans, darling!" she replied ecstatically. Angela hopped off Patrick's lap and went to wake up Tim to show him before her parents could stop her. Patrick didn't even have the heart to tell her Tim would be less than pleased, he was just so happy she wasn't scared anymore - for the time being.

"Well, I think we might have quite the star-to-be on our hands." Patrick declared.

"I think we might want to wait until after the pantomime to make that assumption, dearest." Shelagh smiled and then couldn't help it and burst out laughing.

"What?" Patrick asked.

"I'm sorry, Patrick, it's the sequin bean hat." she gasped between words. He smirked.

"You don't think it makes me look dashing?" He teased. Shelagh resisted the urge to yank it right off his head.

"I think you're so very adorable, Patrick." she replied. "But you should stick to medicine, I don't think a life in the theater is quite for you." she giggled at his offended look and made her way to the kitchen, bouncing Teddy as she went.

Patrick felt a secret second of disappointment when Angela decided to wear her hat in the pantomime, but his beaming pride for his little girl far surpassed any negative feelings in the end. He didn't need to be in costume to be her second bean.

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28 down, 22 to go! Hope you enjoy!


	29. I Hate How Much I Love You

**Prompt 29:** "I Hate How Much I Love You"

 **Summary:** Shelagh has a hard day after word gets out about her engagement to Patrick. Set pre-Christmas special, so Timothy doesn't have Polio yet and Shelagh is not reconciled with Nonnatus. TW: Verbal assault.

 **A/N:** My show is finally over, so updates will be coming more regularly! Yay! I'll see what time looks like after the 15th when I start rehearsals for my next gig. :)

 **Disclaimer:** I own nothing.

* * *

Shelagh Mannion couldn't shake the feeling that everyone was constantly watching her and it worried her for several reasons. At first, she felt vain feeling like the center of attention. After all, why would all of Poplar be concerned with her, even after the announcement of the decade? It quickly became clear, however, that it wasn't vanity at all. For starters, she didn't want the attention and furthermore, she was definitely not imagining it.

Heads turned her way and voices quieted when she approached from the moment she shed her identity as Sister Bernadette, but since the announcement that she was soon to become Shelagh Turner, the heads and voices had multiplied exponentially. The gossip hurt her terribly, and she knew it hurt Patrick and Timothy too, but she pushed forward. Every time she overheard a busy-body remarking on how well she was 'hiding her figure', she forced herself to dream about the day when she could proudly show off that she was carrying Patrick's child. Every time a jealous woman implied that she was too plain to please him (and really, how had she never noticed that Patrick had so many admirers?), she reminded herself that he'd fallen in love with her whilst she wore a habit, so looks or no looks, he must love her dearly.

It wasn't until about a week after their engagement that she encountered crudeness that truly made her second guess her decisions.

She'd taken to walking back to her boarding house from dinner with Patrick and Timothy every night. It was a bit of a long walk, but it helped clear her head and she'd always loved being out at night as a midwife. The decreased noise of the normally bustling Poplar made her feel at peace, and, if she was being honest with herself, she now also appreciated the lack of stares. Patrick didn't love it and usually insisted on driving her, but she had no reason to feel unsafe. She'd cycled and walked the darkened streets for nearly a decade as a nun and nurse, why should she feel unsafe now? Besides, it was late and Timothy needed him. She wouldn't take her fiance away from his son.

Turning into an alley about five minutes from Kennilworth, she felt the now-familiar feeling of someone watching her. She shook it off and kept walking - it had been a lovely night, there was no need to spoil it by confronting another onlooker.

A few more steps proved it wasn't just another onlooker, though.

"Oi! Sweetheart, where ya off ta?" a slightly stumbling man appeared out of the shadows. Shelagh felt her heart rate increase, but she kept walking. This wasn't anything she couldn't handle.

"My friend here asked ya a question!" a second man hollered after her. "S'not polite not ta answer!"

Shelagh increased her speed, regretting, for the first time, her decline of Patrick's nightly offer to drive her home. The two men were slightly intoxicated, but their height in comparison to her small stature allowed them to catch up easily and step in front of her.

"Aha, it's that little sista'..." one of the men realized as he let his gaze roam over her. "Didn't I tell ya it's a shame they hide under those tents?" he asked his friend.

"Too right," the other man replied, "you never know what you might find underneath."

"Excuse me." Shelagh tried to push past them, but they didn't move.

"It's no wonder the doc couldn't keep his hands off ya." one of the men suggested. "Good thing he got too ya, I say, otherwise you'd still be under than frock and the rest of us wouldn't get the view." he reached out to touch her hair, but she stepped back in time.

"It's alright, sweetheart," the man's friend leered, "nothing your good doctor hasn't already seen and done..."

Shelagh turned and ran back to Kennilworth as fast her legs would carry her. She didn't even consider the possibility that they might catch up to her again, all she knew is she needed to run. She bolted down the streets and banged on the door. She barely heard Patrick running frantically to answer her panicked knocks. She didn't even register that she'd gone back to his place until he'd pulled her inside and shut the door.

"Shelagh, darling, what happened?" he asked, terribly worried at her pale, scared face.

The sound of his voice broke her and she burst into tears, letting him gather her into his arms as she sobbed into his jumper. He simply held her as she cried. Yet another gesture of love she couldn't understand why he would want to give to her. Eventually, she calmed down enough for him to walk her to the couch.

"Shelagh, please, tell me what happened." he implored. She hung her face, though a part of her knew she'd done nothing wrong.

"It was nothing." she tried to insist.

"It wasn't nothing, love." he argued. "Shelagh, you can tell me anything. You know that, right?"

She seemed to process the thought for a moment and he relaxed a little when he saw the acceptance in her eyes.

"I think I've been to every inch of Poplar at every hour of every day," she started slowly, "but I've never felt afraid until tonight." she paused. "They said...they said it was no wonder you couldn't keep your hands off of me and they were going to…" she couldn't finish the thought, but she didn't need to. The anger in Patrick's eyes told her he knew exactly what happened. "It's never happened before. Not in ten years. It doesn't even happen to the nurses that often." she cried. "What did I do?" she asked desperately.

"Did they hurt you?" Patrick asked tensley.

"No," she replied quickly, "I ran back here as fast as I could. They didn't touch me...but Patrick, why would they even want to? I don't understand."

"I'm so sorry, Shelagh." he apologized with a broken voice. "I'm so, so sorry, this is all my fault."

"What are you talking about?"

"I should've left you alone." he replied sadly. "I never should have pursued you. I hate how much I love you. I hate that I couldn't fight it. If I could have, you wouldn't have to deal with all of this."

"I couldn't fight it either, Patrick." Shelagh said adamantly. "One way or another, we would have ended up exactly where we are. I just don't understand why this is happening now. I hope you don't think me naive."

"I don't." he assured. "I think you spent so long living under the protection of Nonnatus that it never occured to you that men might notice you when you left. Shelagh, I hope you know though, you didn't do anything wrong. Those men, that filth, they are the ones that are wrong."

Shelagh leaned her head against his shoulder and relaxed a bit into his embrace.

"I can't help but feel that I'm being punished." she admitted.

"You're not. I won't let you think that." Patrick immediately insisted. "I know things are hard right now, but I promise they will get better."

"How can you know that?" she asked honestly.

"Because I will never stop working to make it so." he replied. "I love you, Shelagh, and I will never stop fighting for your happiness."

She wasn't sure if it was the adrenaline from earlier or the way he was looking at her, but she suddenly found herself leaning forward to press her lips to his in their first kiss. She pulled back almost immediately, but his smile melted her insecurities and she leaned forward again. He met her half way this time and gently rubbed his thumb along her cheek as she relaxed into the kiss. Every nerve in her body felt warm and despite her earlier fears, she couldn't help but feel completely at home. They broke apart, breathless.

"I love you too, Patrick."

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29 down, 21 to go! Hope you enjoy!


	30. I Think I'm in Love with You

**Prompt 30:** "I think I'm in love with you and that scares (the crap out of me) me to death." (Slight prompt alteration to make it Turnadette-friendly)

 **Summary:** AU where Shelagh goes to Chichester after being discharged and avoids Patrick when she returns to Poplar.

 **Disclaimer:** I own nothing.

* * *

"Dr. Turner asked after you again today." Sister Julienne casually remarked over her now daily tea with Shelagh, noting how the younger woman's eyes darted immediately down to her saucer.

"Oh." Shelagh barely replied. She'd been back in Poplar for just over a week now and had very carefully managed not to see Patrick Turner at all during that time. It wasn't that she didn't want to. Reading his letters while she was at Chichester persuaded her to come back to Poplar. Now that she was here, though, and the reality of their relationship loomed closer that ever, she found she couldn't face him.

"I've respected your wishes and not informed him that you have returned," Sister Julienne continued, "but, Shelagh, I must ask if you think it is wise to continue this way."

Shelagh's head shot up in fear.

"I will never breach your trust, my dear." Sister Julienne quickly assured. "I know how much you've been struggling and I know how hard the decision to leave your orders was for you. That said, I am not blind, and I think it goes without saying that your decision to become Shelagh again was not solely to do with your own wishes?"

Shelagh looked as though she wanted to argue her mentor's point, but then her shoulders sagged in defeat.

"No," she admitted, "there were other factors - not just those, um, factors, though. I would have left even if it hadn't been for that."

"I know that." Sister Julienne smiled. "As much as it broke my heart to lose you, it broke it even more to see you unhappy. Even in your uncertainty, now, you no longer have the cloud of sadness hanging over you. I am grateful for that."

"Thank you, Sister." Shelagh thanked earnestly. Both sipped their tea in silence for a moment. "I don't know how to face him, Sister. I don't know what to say."

Sister Julienne never thought she would be in the position of giving relationship advice to Sister Bernadette, but somehow, the conversation still felt as natural as could be. She was simply a mother guiding her beloved daughter. Perhaps this was what their friendship was meant to be all along.

"I believe, at this moment, that simply letting him know you are back and in good health would be a tremendous start." the older woman advised warmly. "Otherwise, I'll admit I'm a bit concerned for the well being of his surgery floor."

"Oh dear." Shelagh laughed gently. "I didn't mean to worry him. Everything seemed so simple, in a way, when it was impossible. I was unhappy, but it was easy to want something I couldn't have. Now, it seems I might have it after all and I'm so frightened."

"Of Dr. Turner?" Sister Julienne asked, concerned.

"No." Shelagh quickly corrected. "No, I could never be afraid of him. I'm frightened of what I feel. I'm so new to all of this, what if I'm wrong? What if I lose him?"

"You have nothing to fear, my dear." Sister Julienne got up to take Shelagh's hand. "' _Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid, do not be discouraged, for the Lord your God will be with you wherever you go._ ' I do not believe he would lead you down this path were it not where you were meant to be."

"Thank you, Sister Julienne." Shelagh hugged her mother, for that was how she'd felt for years, tightly.

"I know you usually head back to your lodgings around now, but if you wanted to wait a bit, I believe we will have a guest in need of our autoclave later today." Sister Julienne suggested with a knowing smile. Shelagh blushed, but her smile was determined.

"Perhaps I can help Sister Monica Joan in the parlour for a bit."

'Later today' turned quickly into 'later that evening'. Shelagh hadn't realized how much the nurses had missed her and they quickly took advantage of the fact that she hadn't run off after her tea with Sister Julienne. She had to admit, it was the best evening she'd had in quite some time. The nurses and the Sisters were her family and she was foolish to think she could leave them behind. She was having so much fun, however, that she forgot who else would be arriving at Nonnatus, so when Dr. Turner walked into the parlour in search of Nurse Miller to follow up on a case, Shelagh nearly fell off her chair.

"Sister Bernadette?" Patrick stammered. Shelagh couldn't respond. Everyone else in the room kept looking back and forth between the two, desperately searching for a reason for the sudden tension. "You're back in Poplar...and you're not Sister Bernadette...I mean...you…"

"I renounced my vows." she spoke softly. The silence returned until Trixie couldn't bear it anymore.

"Cynthia, Jenny, don't we have that thing we have to do? Urgently?" she hinted strongly. The others took the hint and scurried away after her. Shelagh was so panicked about being alone with Patrick that it didn't occur to her that the girls wouldn't actually go upstairs - they would simply hide behind the door.

"Are you well?" Patrick asked lamely. Of course she was well, she wouldn't be back if she wasn't.

"Yes." she replied simply.

"I wrote to you." he said, a twinge of rejection seeping into his voice against his will.

"I know." she sighed. "I read them all."

"I see." he looked down, accepting his fate. She didn't feel the same way. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said anything. I'm glad you're better."

He turned to leave, but she stopped him.

"Dr. Turner, wait." she quickly spurted out. He stopped, but couldn't turn around. She couldn't see how devastated he was. "I'm glad you wrote to me."

A glimmer of hope fluttered in his chest.

"You are?" he asked, trying not to sound too hopeful. "I wasn't sure. I don't know if I said too much, or not enough…"

"You said what was necessary." she assured. "And I'm sorry I didn't tell you I'd returned to Poplar."

"Why didn't you?" he asked, finally turning to face her. The absolute love and unwavering tenderness in his face pushed her to answer with the truth.

"Because I think I'm in love with you," she whispered, "and it scares me to death."

Patrick pulled her into his arms before she could panic at saying too much and held her more tenderly than she could remember ever having been held in her life.

"Oh my love, you don't need to be scared at all." he whispered into her hair. She sighed in blissful relief until he laughed and pulled away from her.

"What is it?" she asked, uncertain.

"I just realized I don't even know your name." he laughed. She smiled happily. She was free to tell him her given name and the feeling was liberating.

"Shelagh." she said confidently.

"Patrick." he replied. "There, we've made a start."

"We have." Shelagh beamed. "I love you, Patrick." she spoke loud enough for it to be heard by more than Patrick's nearby ears.

Screams echoed from outside the door and they both laughed.

"Well, I was going to say we could keep this between us for as long as you wanted, but it appears that isn't an option anymore…" he remarked wryly.

"It's alright." Shelagh replied. "I don't want to hide how I feel ever again."

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30 down, 20 to go! *Bible quote is Joshua 1:9*


	31. Oh God, I Need a Drink

**Prompt 31:** "Oh God, I need a drink."

 **Summary:** Patrick is having a hard time quitting smoking, despite keeping up appearances for Timothy. RATED M.

 **A/N:** This didn't even start out smutty. I literally don't know how we got here.

 **Disclaimer:** I own nothing.

* * *

When he promised Timothy he would give up smoking, he never expected it to be this hard. He figured he would miss his cigarettes, but nothing prepared him for the insanity. That's what it was; he was going insane. Everything itched. His fingers wouldn't stop twitching, the feeling in his mouth made him want to crawl out of his skin, and worst of all, Shelagh was barely suffering.

Oh sure, she lamented giving up smoking, but at the end of the day, she wasn't the one lying awake at night because every nerve in her body was uncomfortable and tight. No, no. His wife was peacefully slumbering next to him while he tossed and turned and prayed for anything to quench the need on his tongue. He knew Shelagh was eating biscuits to cope and she wasn't completely unaffected, but still. She'd only been smoking a couple of times a day for the last three or so years. He'd been chain smoking for the last 30.

He was going to die. Or kill someone. Whichever came first, he really didn't care at this point.

"Oh God, I need a drink." he muttered to himself, throwing the covers off haphazardly. He was so consumed by his new goal that he didn't notice he'd thrown the covers so violently that they'd hit Shelagh in the face.

"Patrick, what?" she sleepily asked, removing the offending fabric from on top of her. "Is everything alright?"

"No, Shelagh, it's not. Just go back to sleep." he snapped.

"Patrick!" Shelagh cried crossly, now fully awake and less than amused. "What on earth is wrong?"

"Nothing you can't solve with biscuits, apparently!" he bit back, far harsher than he meant to. "I'm sorry." he sighed and sat down next to her on the bed. "You didn't deserve that, I'm truly sorry."

"You're forgiven." Shelagh replied earnestly. "Is it the smoking? Or, rather lack of it?"

"I feel as though I'm losing my mind." he admitted. "I promised Tim, and I meant it, but I didn't think it would be this hard."

"I sometimes feel as though I might go mad as well and I don't have it nearly as bad as you." Shelagh replied. He felt even more regret at snapping at her. "Is there anything I can do to help? Why did you want a drink?"

"I don't even know that I really did." he shrugged. "I suppose it wouldn't do any good to replace one vice with another. My mouth just feels so...itchy?"

Shelagh laughed softly and he smiled. She held her hands out over her lap in invitation and he gratefully lowered his head. She knew he would never tell anyone, but he loved laying in her lap when he was stressed. She would hum to him and run her fingers through his hair and it made him feel like there was nothing but peace in the world.

"I suppose what you're feeling is just a worse version of what I'm feeling." Shelagh remarked. "It's why I keep eating the biscuits - my mouth just wants to be occupied and I don't know what else to put in it."

Patrick chuckled against her thigh and she rolled her eyes.

"You're as mature as Timothy, Patrick."

He sat up, eyes gleaming with mischief.

"Oh, I think I'm far more mature, Shelagh. So much more, in fact, that I don't think a drink was what I needed after all." his voice lowered and Shelagh felt a familiar jolt in her stomach.

"What do you need?" she stammered.

"Something to satisfy my oral fixation, I should think." he spoke softly as he pulled the covers down to reveal her bare legs. "Any suggestions?"

"Perhaps." she barely whispered. He grinned happily. Despite her shyness, Shelagh wasn't often rendered speechless unless she was hopelessly aroused and eager.

He slid his hands painfully slowly up her legs, fingers exploring ever dip and curve along the way. He was desperate to taste her, but drawing it out and making her even more impatient was well worth the wait. It wasn't as though his mouth had to be idle on the way, after all. Her skin was so soft and he felt his frustrations slowly ebbing away as he traced his lips and tongue and teeth from her knees to her thighs.

"Patrick." she gasped as he nipped at her inner thigh, so close to where she wanted, but so far and still blocked by her panties.

"Patience, love." he murmured into her. The vibrations of his voice sent her reeling and she felt her pelvis push towards him. He only chuckled at her insistence. The desperation had certainly turned sides.

Deciding to give into her wishes (and his own impatience, really), he quickly removed her panties and pushed her nightgown up. He'd discovered recently that while he reveled in seeing her naked, there was something thrilling about making love while they weren't completely unclothed. It added a sense of debauchery in his mind that he couldn't explain; it was almost as though they were too desperate to finish undressing.

Shelagh had apparently decided he'd spent too much time staring and she nearly knocked him off balanced as she pulled him towards her center. He groaned as he felt his mouth meet her. She was soaked and scorching and yes, this was exactly what he wanted. So much better than a cigarette. His tongue licked the length of her up to her clit and then lapped gently, alternating pressure to driver her just up to the edge, but not push her over. He would never get tired of tasting her. He knew her so well, knew what every moan meant, knew exactly how hard to stroke and push, knew that if he rubbed his tongue in circles just there she would clench her thighs around his head, yes.

"Yes, yes, Patrick." she cried.

He smiled against her and redoubled his efforts. She tasted like home, he realized. That's what he wanted. He wanted the familiarity of taste and texture. He wanted to feel relaxed and safe. He couldn't have that in his cigarettes anymore, but by god, he could have it in his wife.

He slid two fingers eagerly inside of her, suddenly needing to see her fall apart. She keened at the feeling he felt lightheaded as she clenched around him. He swirled his tongue faster and faster over her until she finally arched her back off the bed and frantically clutched at his hair as she flew over the edge.

He gently kissed back down her legs as she calmed.

"So much better than a drink." he laughed. She glanced up at him, eyes glazed over from her orgasm.

"So much better than a cigarette." she countered lightly. "You know, eating this many biscuits is probably just as bad for me as smoking. I should really find another habit."

"Anything in mind?" he asked knowingly.

"I have a few thoughts." she whispered with a determined grin as she pushed him back onto the mattress.

Maybe giving up smoking wasn't so bad.

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31 down, 19 to go! Woah, I've hit the teens. That's crazy! Hope you enjoy!


	32. Make Me

**Prompt 32:** "Make Me"

 **Summary:** Shelagh and Patrick have a fight. Set mid-season four post-Shelagh regaining her nurse's uniform.

 **Disclaimer:** I own nothing.

* * *

"What is it you need, Sister?"

Patrick smiled knowingly. He couldn't hear Sister Julienne's side of the phone conversation, but he knew that tone in Shelagh and he knew she was about to whole heartedly agree to whatever was asked of her. Truthfully, he thought Shelagh could take on a little less, but she was happiest when she was busy and he knew she felt most fulfilled when she was helping others.

"Of course, Sister Julienne. I can start this afternoon….no really, I'm actually looking forward to it...of course...goodbye."

Shelagh hung up the phone and turned to Patrick who was looking up at her expectantly from the table.

"That was Sister Julienne." she explained excitedly.

"So I gathered." Patrick replied, amused. "Is everything alright?"

"Everything's fine." she paused. "She asked if I could go back on rota - temporarily of course - since they're still missing Sister Evangelina and Nurse Franklin's been seconded to the London." she looked up at Patrick eagerly and was confused and slightly disappointed to see he didn't share her excitement. "Patrick, what is it? I told you I missed nursing and midwifery, this is the perfect opportunity to practice."

"You have plenty of opportunity now at the surgery now that you're working as a nurse." he argued lamely.

"Yes." she forced herself to stay calm, it wasn't like Patrick be argumentative with her. "But I didn't realize until I was doing more nursing at the surgery that I missed district nursing and midwifery as well."

"I don't think it's a good idea." he replied, still unwilling to meet her eyes, so she knew there was more going on.

"Well, I think it is." she rebutted.

"What about Angela? Who's going to watch her?" he argued.

"It's only temporary, Patrick, I'm more than capable of getting a sitter and if worse comes to worse, Ms. Penny adores Angela and would be happy to watch her." Shelagh was starting to lose her temper, but she stamped it down as much as she could. "Besides, I've already told Sister Julienne I would do it."

"Well you shouldn't have before you asked me." The minute the words were out of his mouth, he knew he'd royally messed up. For all the symbolism of the 'obey' portion of her vows, they both knew she was free to do as she chose. He knew she still struggled with how to balance her desire to be with her children and be a stay-at-home mom and her desire to work, but most of all, he knew that whatever balance she came to in the end, it would be with his equal consulting, not his superior approval.

"Excuse me?" she asked, eyes narrowing. "I wasn't aware I needed your permission, Dr. Turner."

Patrick felt his stomach drop. She only called him Dr. Turner at work, when she was teasing him in bed, or when she was furious and he was pretty sure which mood she was in now.

"Shelagh, you know I didn't mean it that way." he tried to explain. "I just think it'll be too much for you with the children and the surgery."

"Oh yes, and you're the expert at knowing when work is too much, are you?" she snapped. She knew it was a low blow in the back of her mind, but they were both angry now and unfortunately the downside of knowing each other as well as they did was that when they wanted to, it didn't take much to hit their marks.

"That's not fair." he spoke lowly. "We're both stubborn, it's our job to look out for the other." he tried to argue.

"Do you think I'm incapable?" she asked incredulously.

"Of course not, you're still the best midwife in Poplar!" he nearly shouted.

"Then what-?"

"I don't want you out there on your own at all hours of the night!" he spat. "You shouldn't be putting yourself at risk. You should be home with me, and Angela, and Timothy. I will not have you riding a rickety bicycle all over the city."

"Make me stay then, Patrick Turner!" she cried. She knew it was just a fight of stubbornness between them now, but her pride ran deeper than she wanted to admit and she wouldn't concede. "I was a Nonnatun for ten years. I didn't need protection then, and I certainly don't need it now."

"Shelagh-" he sighed in exasperation. She turned, the fire dying behind her eyes only to be replaced with brimming tears.

"Do you know why I first fell in love with you?" she asked, voice trembling. "It was because you never saw yourself as better than the nurses or the Sisters. You treated us all like equals and you encouraged me when I first got to Poplar instead of lecturing me."

"Shelagh, I'm sorry, it all came out wrong, I just-"

"I can't hear it right now, Patrick. I'm sorry." she apologized firmly. "I'll see you later tonight."

Against every fiber of her body that wanted to stay and fix things with her husband, Shelagh marched determinedly out the door.

Luckily for both of them, Sister Julienne had foreseen Patrick (and Shelagh herself, if she was being honest) not wanting Shelagh on the night rounds. After seeing to Nurse Franklin's usual patients, Shelagh rode her bicycle back to Kennilworth. It felt so surreal to park it outside the flat - as though her lives were fully merging. She would've walked back, but Sister Julienne pointed out that she would need the bicycle again the following day and she wasn't wrong. Now, Shelagh just had to face Patrick.

She opened the door quietly and was surprised to find Patrick and Angela playing in the sitting room. She knew they would have to finish their conversation, but she expected it to be later that night. Why wasn't he at the surgery?

"I called in for a locum." he explained at her perplexed look. "I know Ms. Penny could've taken her or I could've found a sitter, but it didn't seem fair."

"I don't understand." she replied, making her way to sit on the floor with them. Angela looked up at her happily and reached out for her mum. Shelagh eagerly took her baby girl into her lap.

"You sacrificed so much to make the life we have and you've never asked me for anything in return." he started.

"That's not true, Patrick." she replied sadly, remembering her borderline obsessive behavior with the adoption society.

"You've never asked me for anything I didn't already want to give you." he clarified. "Your work is just as much a part of you as mine is of me and I don't want to take that away from you."

"Why didn't you want me to go back on rota?" she asked, genuinely curious now that they'd calmed down.

"It wasn't about me or the children, if that's what you were thinking. I don't know. Truth be told, I never liked the idea of you running about Poplar on your bicycle. It wasn't that I didn't think you capable, I just worried about you." he explained.

"Only me?" she asked skeptically.

"No, not only you." he chuckled. "But I'll admit I was slightly more invested in you than the others. I suppose beforehand, it was never my place to say anything to stop you. I suppose it still isn't, but now that we're married and I can say everything I always wanted to,"

"You wanted to keep me safe." she finished.

"I know you can keep yourself safe, Shelagh. You're the most formidable woman I've ever met, including Sister Evangelina." they laughed until he turned somber once more. "It's just that losing you would...well, I can't even imagine it."

She scooted herself and Angela over to him and leaned against his shoulder.

"You're not going to lose me, Patrick." she promised.

"I know that objectively." he assured. "I just struggle with it sometimes."

They sat snuggled in silence for a few, beautiful moments with the only sounds in the air being Angela's tiny babbles.

"Do you really think I'm more formidable than Sister Evangelina?" she asked.

"Oh, without a doubt, darling. I should've known better than to go up against you." he joked, but she shook her head.

"No, Patrick, you have the right to question me. I shouldn't have reacted so harshly."

"Can we admit that we're both just a pair of stubborn fools?" he asked with a smile.

"Only if you admit that I was right about the Waterston case from last week." she challenged.

"Never." she laughed happily as he kissed her on the forehead.

Some arguments would never be solved and she was okay with that.

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32 down, 18 to go! Finally got around 's nonsense. :D Hope you enjoy!


	33. I'm Pregnant

**Prompt 33:** "I'm pregnant"

 **Summary:** Alternate discovery of Shelagh's pregnancy in season 6.

 **Disclaimer:** I own nothing.

* * *

Sister Winifred cheerily let herself into the Turner flat, patting herself on the back for a job well-done. It took her and Mrs. Turner a little while to find their footing with each other, but she was pleased that they seemed to get along well now. In hindsight, their relationship probably would've gotten off to a better start if anyone had bothered to tell her that she essentially came to Nonnatus to replace Mrs. Turner after she left the order or that Mrs. Turner was a former member of the order in the first place. Even when Shelagh came to take over from Sister Julienne, no one told her anything, and so she royally put her foot in it when she offered to handle "any of the religious aspects of running Nonnatus house because they could be difficult for others to understand." Mrs. Turner gave her a glare that could've melted the paint off the walls and Nurses Franklin and Miller audibly gasped. She made herself scarce the rest of that week.

Now, though, Mrs. Turner trusted her completely and even gave her the task of seeing to Dr. Turner and the rest of the surgery when she needed to go home. She hoped Shelagh was feeling better. Cape Town Tummy had wreaked havoc on all of them, but Shelagh didn't seem to be able to shake it.

"Mrs. Turner?" Sister Winifred called out. No answer greeted her. She hoped Shelagh hadn't fallen asleep, the last thing she wanted to do was interrupt rest. "Mrs. Turner, it's Sister Winifred."

When Shelagh still didn't answer, Sister Winifred peeked around into the sitting room, frowning when there was no sign of the other woman. Perhaps the kitchen, then? She walked around the corner into the Turner kitchen and gasped.

"Mrs. Turner!" she cried out as she quickly knelt beside an unconscious Shelagh. "Shelagh, can you hear me?" she checked her pulse and her eyes before concluding that it was likely a fainting episode due to dehydration. She'd never been so grateful to be in a house with a telephone.

She was five rings in before she remembered that no one was at the surgery because she'd just closed it and sent Dr. Turner off on his rounds. Sighing in frustration, she hung up and dialed Poplar 459 instead.

"Nonnatus House, midwife speaking." Sister Julienne's familiar reply calmed Sister Winifred immensely.

"Sister Julienne, it's Sister Winifred, I'm at the Turner residence, it's Mrs. Turner-"

"Shelagh?" Sister Julienne asked, voice immediately rising in concern. "What's happened."

"I don't know exactly, but I suspect fainting due to dehydration. She had to go home early from the surgery today when she didn't feel well." Sister Winifred explained. "I don't think it's an emergency, but I was trying to reach Dr. Turner, only he's out on his rounds."

"I understand." said Sister Julienne. "I'm on my way. I agree, it's probably not anything serious, but I'd like to sit with her until Dr. Turner returns. Will you wait with her until I arrive, please?"

"Of course, Sister." Sister Winifred hung up and resumed her place on the floor next to Shelagh. She wouldn't be able to move her somewhere more comfortable until she woke, but she did rearrange her a bit before checking her head for bruising. Satisfied that Shelagh wasn't at risk for a concussion, Sister Winifred sat and waited.

Sister Julienne arrived in record time. Unfortunately, Patrick arrived minutes later and the sight of two Nonnatun bikes up against his flat sent him running inside in a panic.

"What's happened?" he asked frantically as he raced inside, not entirely sure which room he was headed to.

"In here, Dr. Turner!" a voice called out from his sitting room. He ran around the corner to see Sister Julienne and Sister Winifred attending to Shelagh, whom they'd moved to the couch.

"My God, Shelagh, is she alright?" he asked, eyes darting back and forth between the two nuns.

"She'll be fine, Doctor." Sister Winifred assured. "I'll take my leave, then, Sister." She nodded to Sister Julienne and made her way out the door.

Patrick stood and looked over Shelagh nervously, his medical brain taking him to the worst possible scenarios.

"Patrick." Sister Julienne softly called, trying to peacefully gain his attention.

"What happened?" he asked again.

"Sister Winifred came to update Shelagh after you closed the surgery. She found her unconscious in the kitchen. Based on her not feeling well earlier, we think she may have fainted due to dehydration." Sister Julienne calmly explained.

"She's been feeling out of sorts ever since we got back from South Africa," Patrick elaborated as he sat on the couch beside his wife, "but I didn't realize how bad it was."

"Most of us have luckily left Cape Town Tummy behind us." Sister Julienne ruminated. "Has she still been vomiting as frequently?"

"More, actually, come to think of it," Patrick thought carefully, "but mostly in the mor...nings…" he trailed off, unwilling to embrace the spark of hope quickly building in his chest. He couldn't hide the way his breathing sped up, though, or the way his eyes began to sparkle. "Oh my god."

"Dr. Turner, do you think she could be…?" Sister Julienne couldn't bear to name her hopes either.

"I-I don't know." he stammered. "It's been so long since we even thought to consider the possibility."

A small groan drew their attention as Shelagh blinked slowly awake. Patrick and Sister Julienne beamed down at her.

"Darling, it's alright." Patrick soothed as he ran his hand over hers.

"Patrick? Sister Julienne?" Shelagh whispered as she tried to gain her bearings.

"We're here, my dear." said Sister Julienne warmly. "Take your time. You're absolutely fine, you just fainted."

"Oh no, I'm sorry." Shelagh instinctively apologized.

"You have nothing to be sorry for." Patrick insisted. "No, don't sit up. You need to rest." he gently pressed her back down as she tried to sit up to face them.

Shelagh lay down and tried to take in the expressions on her husband's and her mother's faces. They were concerned for her, but there was also a hope in their eyes that she couldn't ascribe to her simply waking up. As the rest of the day came back to her, her heart fluttered. Could they have figured it out? She'd only gotten it confirmed that morning, was it written on her face?

"Shelagh," Patrick tried to find the words, "I don't even know how to ask you. It's been so long since I ever thought I would ask you."

He looked to Sister Julienne, but she was just as at a loss for words as he was. Luckily, Shelagh took pity on the both of them. She'd been terrified to tell anyone, but somehow, waking to find the two people she loved most on this earth spontaneously in the know, was incredibly comforting and inspiring.

"I didn't know how I was going to tell you." she smiled. "But, you don't have to ask me, Patrick, Sister Julienne...I'm pregnant."

Sister Julienne let her tears of hope and happiness flow and Patrick practically fell down on Shelagh to hug her close.

"This, this is a true miracle, Shelagh." Sister Julienne cried.

"I'm sorry I didn't say anything. I'm so afraid of what could happen." Shelagh admitted, shyly. She couldn't bear that she was having any kind of reservations after hoping for so many years.

"I'm not." Sister Julienne insisted. "Because I never stopped praying." she took one of Shelagh's hands as Patrick took the other.

"We won't let anything happen to you or the baby, Shelagh." Patrick promised. "I know you both know I don't put much stock in faith, but I can't believe our dreams would finally come true only to be taken away from us."

Shelagh felt her fears evaporate in his eyes and smile. Years ago, he'd told her to just watch his face and she sobbed when she knew she never would. Three years later, she could honestly say it was worth the wait.

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33 down, 17 to go! Hope you enjoy!


	34. You Look Like You Need a Hug

**Prompt 34:** "You Look Like You Need a Hug"

 **Summary:** Patrick reflects on his conversation with Sister Mary Cynthia in 6x05.

 **A/N:** My flight is delayed three hours because of the stupid Bomb Cyclone, so I'm throwing myself into Turnadette to try and feel less murderous.

 **Disclaimer:** I own nothing.

* * *

He didn't realize how long he'd been driving until all the crumbling buildings of Poplar and London had been replaced with fog-covered trees. He wasn't ready to return home, but a glance at his gas meter told him he shouldn't go farther either. Instead, he pulled off to the side of the road and embraced the familiar sadness of sitting alone in his car.

Patrick and his little green MG had been through everything together - Timothy's birth, Marianne's diagnosis and passing, chasing Shelagh. After all this time, and despite how much he loved his flat and his work, his car was the only place he felt truly at peace and protected from the world. It didn't feel like it felt before, about two years ago. He didn't feel lost or like he was about to have a breakdown. He just felt sad.

He rarely talked about it with anyone except Shelagh, but he felt incredibly protective of the nurses of Nonnatus, especially the ones who arrived so young. He'd known Sister Mary Cynthia (nee Nurse Miller) for over a decade and he'd watched her blossom from an impossibly shy, unsure little girl into a brilliant, opinionated young woman. He'd seen her face adversity before and work through it and come out the other end ever stronger than before. It broke his heart to see her up against something she couldn't see the end of. He certainly knew what that felt like.

He didn't even know if Northfield would have a place for her, but it was his first instinct to try. It's warm fields and comforting halls now held a sense of comfort for him that they never used to and he hoped more than anything that he could give that to the young nun. If he couldn't throttle the man who sent her down this path or punish Sister Ursula for sending her to that dungeon, then maybe he could help her find her way back to her former, optimistic and caring self.

It was getting dark. He needed to get back. He needed to help finish packing up the house and needed to rescue Tim from Shelagh, who was likely driving their son insane with last minute organization. The drive back to Poplar seemed so long compared to the drive out. He supposed that wasn't unusual. He always had a habit of drifting off and not realizing how far he'd gone. Pulling up to the flat, he was surprised to find it mostly dark. Between him and Shelagh being used to odd hours and Tim staying up all night reading, the flat was usually bright.

"Hello?" he called out as he came through the front door. Tim hurried around the corner from the sitting room.

"Shh," he whispered, "Angela just fell asleep on the couch."

"Why is she on the couch?" Patrick asked, unsure of his son's shenanigans.

"So I can watch her while I finish my homework." Tim explained, obviously.

"Where is your mother?" Patrick asked the next obvious question.

"She said she had to run to the surgery and I should tell you to meet her there when you got home." Tim shrugged. Patrick paled, was it a development in the Thalidomide case? Was Shelagh okay? He still wasn't a huge fan of the idea of her out and about on her own in this stage of her pregnancy. Tim must've noticed his worry because he shook his head before adding, "I don't think it's an emergency. She just said you should meet her there."

"Right, I guess I should head back out then." Patrick sighed. "And turn on another lamp, I'll not have you blind before your exams." he gestured to the mostly darkened sitting room. Tim rolled his eyes, but Patrick noted the other light through the window as he left with satisfaction.

He hurried to the surgery. Tim's assurance had slightly appeased him, but he still felt concerned. By the time he arrived, Shelagh was far calmer than him. He entered the surgery to find light spilling from his office and when he opened the door, Shelagh was peacefully sitting at his desk, hand caressing her swollen belly as she hummed. She looked up warmly when she heard him.

"I was right, you look like you need a hug." she remarked lovingly.

"What?" he asked, confused.

"I stopped at Nonnatus on my way home today and Sister Julienne mentioned you'd been by." she explained. He nodded knowingly. "I'm sorry, Patrick, that can't have been easy for you."

Patrick felt his earlier tension ease at her words. How had he been so lucky to marry a woman who knew exactly what he needed? He drew the second chair around the desk so he could sit by her side.

"What that man did to her was, unthinkable," he paused, "but that she was sent to a place that was supposed to help her yet treated her like a caged animal…"

"I know." Shelagh took his hand. "I still don't know how we all allowed it to happen. But Patrick, Sister Mary Cynthia is strong and now she has you to look after her."

"You didn't see her face, Shelagh." he sighed deeply. "She was so...broken. Not sad, not angry, just broken and with no hope of a light at the other side of her struggling. I know what it feels like to fear you might never be happy again and to see that on someone once so full of life…I couldn't bear it."

"You're going to try to find her a place at Northfield?" Shelagh asked knowingly.

"If I can." Patrick replied. "I'm still friends with several of the doctors there, I'm hoping I can pull some strings."

Shelagh got up and moved to his lap.

"You're a wonderful man, Patrick Turner." she spoke gently. "I know no one can immediately right what wrongs have been done in this case, but I believe you can help get her in the right direction."

He leaned in and kissed her soundly, finding it easier and easier, year by year, to believe the sentiments she bestowed upon him. He was right two years ago. He never would fall down that rabbit hole again. Not when he had her.

"We should get home." he whispered reluctantly. "When I left, Tim was reading the Lancet in the dark while Angela slept on the couch."

Shelagh blushed.

"That might've been my fault. I got a little too excited and packed Angela's bedding today. I haven't been able to remember which box I put it in…" she trailed off, horribly embarrassed. Patrick just laughed.

"I'll remember that the next time you accuse me of hoarding. At least I don't pack so efficiently that I kick our daughter out of her bed."

She lightly slapped him on the chest before bursting into giggles herself.

"Fine, I promise to stop making you and Tim throw things out…."

"Hah!" he exclaimed in triumph, but she wasn't finished.

"...if you both tackle the Lancet cupboard tomorrow."

His face fell and Shelagh beamed. He should know better than to try and gain the upperhand on a pregnant, nesting woman, even if he had had a hard day.

* * *

34 down, 16 to go! Hope you enjoy!


	35. Just Leave Me Alone

**Prompt 35:** "Just leave me alone."

 **Summary:** Modern AU! Shelagh gets a call on the one year anniversary of Marianne's death.

 **A/N:** Warning, this one is REALLY angsty. TW: assault, drinking.

 **Disclaimer:** I own nothing.

* * *

When her phone rang at 9pm and she saw the familiar "Doc Turner" caller ID pop up, she wasn't surprised. Actually, she was surprised she didn't get a call earlier in the day. She knew Patrick was dreading today. He'd spent the past couple of weeks being extremely irritable at work and then sending apologetic texts in the middle of the night. She didn't blame him at all, she just wished he could let himself be a little more open to comfort.

The two of them seemed to be on the edge of something, but honestly, she had no idea what that something was. Everyone at the hospital was speculating about why Dr. Turner was having lunch with his head nurse nearly everyday and why she also occasionally watched his son, but it was just gossip. He'd barely been widowed a year and while she knew she was hopelessly attracted to him and was pretty sure he was also attracted to her, the timing wasn't right at all. For now, she was happy to be his friend and occasional confidant and babysitter (to father and son, really).

Hopefully, him calling her now was him finally reaching out for a comforting hand.

She grabbed her phone off the side table as she turned off the TV.

"Hey Patrick, how are you holding up?" She asked warmly.

"Shelagh?" The small, younger voice startled her.

"Timothy? Does your father know you're using his phone?" asked Shelagh, now growing concerned.

"No." Timothy replied, but he sounded nervous, so she didn't berate him.

"Is everything alright, Timothy?" She asked more forcefully.

"Can you come over?" he asked, voice shaking slightly. "It's dad. I'm scared."

Shelagh's heart started racing in panic.

"Timothy, listen to me very carefully. I'm on my way, but are either of you hurt? Do you need an ambulance?" She tried to force the fear out of her voice, but she wasn't sure she succeeded.

"I don't think so. Just please come. Please!" It sounded like Timothy was crying and Shelagh doubled her efforts to get her shoes on one-handed.

"Okay, I'll be there in ten minutes, Timothy. I'm going to hang up the phone so I can drive, but I promise you, I will be there in ten minutes." She was going to break traffic laws to keep that promise if she had to.

"Okay. Please hurry!" Timothy hung up and Shelagh took a deep breath to collect herself before running out of her flat and speeding to Patrick's.

She ran two red lights and parked halfway on the curb, but true to her word, Shelagh Mannion knocked on the door of the Turner flat ten minutes later. It was opened immediately by a frantic Timothy who practically pulled her through the door and towards the kitchen. Out of the corner of her eye, Shelagh spied an empty bottle of whiskey and a broken glass on the coffee table. Oh no, Patrick.

They turned the corner to the kitchen and Shelagh had to pull Timothy back in horror. The floor was covered in shattered ceramics and Patrick was drunkenly pacing back and forth, smashing every piece of Marianne's dishware he could pry from the cabinets.

"Timothy, go to your room." Shelagh instructed gently, but with no room for argument. Timothy didn't even try to fight her. He'd never seen his father like this, but he didn't like it at all.

"Patrick?" Shelagh called out softly, inching her way towards him through the rubble. "Patrick, it's Shelagh." She reached out to grab his arm and he froze.

"Marianne?" he whispered, voice torn from drinking and crying. Shelagh's heart broke for him.

"No, Pat." she sighed sadly. "It's me. Shelagh. Marianne's not here anymore, remember?" She took his arm with both hands and tried to edge him towards the door to get him away from the shards of ceramic. His hands were badly cut and who knew how well his slippers were protecting his feet?

He pulled angrily out of her grip.

"Thatsss not funny, Marianne." he slurred. "Shouldntt joke bout those thingss."

"Patrick, please, you're scaring Timothy and frankly, you're scaring me." Shelagh tried again. "Marianne isn't here. She hasn't been here for a year now."

Shelagh reached for his arm, but he slipped and in an effort not to have him impale himself on the broken dishes, she instinctively threw her arms around him to hold him up.

"Are you tryingg to make it upp to mee?" his mood changed on a dime and he sloppily turned them so she was pressed up against the countertop. "I've missed youuu so muuch." Still convinced he held his wife in his arms, Patrick roughly kissed Shelagh until she managed to unpin her arms and shove him across the room.

"Get off of me!" she shouted, shocked, horrified, and absolutely heartbroken. She couldn't stop the tears. She loved him, she'd known that for sometime now, and she wanted him to kiss her one day, but not like this. Never like this. Not with his brain soaked in alcohol and his wife's name on his tongue, and certainly not with him forcing her against his kitchen counter.

She'd thrown him so hard that he'd slammed his head against the wall and the shock of it snapped him out of his delusion enough to finally realize who the woman in front of him was.

"Oh fuck. Sheeeelagh? Shelagh, I'm sorrrry." he cried as he tried to stumble towards her. The way she leapt back from him in fear stung more than the numerous cuts he could now feel along his skin.

"Get away from me." she warned. "Don't you fucking touch me, Patrick Turner."

"Please, I never meant tooo. I thought youuu were her." he was sobering up from the shock, but he still had to fight his way through the haze to find his words.

"I don't care who you thought I was." she spat. "You threw yourself so far down the bottle that your son got scared and called me and then you tried to-" she couldn't even say it, she was so furious. "I'm taking Timothy back to my place. He doesn't need to wake up tomorrow to this. You can text when you get your act together and I'll bring him home."

"Shelagh, please." he begged.

"I know you're hurting, Pat." she softened a bit, she really did understand that he felt like dying on the inside. "I know it's been impossibly hard, but you can't do this. You can't do this to Timothy. You have to be stronger than this."

"I can't anymore." he cried. "I can't do everything. I can't be a father, and a mother, and a doctor. I just can't do it."

"Yes you can. It just doesn't feel like you can right now." she sighed. "I'll send Phyllis around in a bit to get you cleaned up."

The hollowed look in his eyes almost made her change her mind, but she couldn't do it. She couldn't bear to touch him right now, not even to bandage him. She could barely even look at him.

"Shelagh, I really am sorry." he apologized.

"I know." Shelagh admitted softly. "But I can't forgive you right now. Just leave me alone for a bit, okay? I'll bring Timothy back around tomorrow and then I'm taking a couple days off work."

"You don't have to do-"

"Yes, I do." she insisted. "You need someone to help you and to be there for you and Timothy...and I can't do that if all I see when I see you is what happened tonight. I'll see you around, Doctor Turner."

She hurried out of the kitchen and swept Timothy away into her car before he could stop her.

"See you around, Nurse Mannion." he whispered to himself.

In the end, it was a week before they saw each other again. After a stern lecture from Phyllis and raging pain from his cuts and his hangover, Patrick took Timothy away to the seaside for a few days. It took that terrible night for him to realize that he'd never actually talked to his son about his mother's death. He'd shoved all feeling away and hidden all of his pain and in the end, it all came spilling out anyway, just with far worse consequences.

Timothy seemed back to his normal self pretty quickly, though Patrick suspected the buckets of ice cream he'd purchased during their vacation had a lot to do with that. Now, he just had to face Shelagh. He still felt ill over what he'd done. There was never going to be anything he could say that would erase the fact that he'd forced her to kiss him in a drunken rage. He didn't deserve her forgiveness, but he would fight for the rest of his life to earn it. He wondered how she was faring. All he'd wanted to do was call or text and ask, but he knew he couldn't. It wouldn't be fair. The only thing keeping him sane was the work emails he'd specifically not blocked for the week. At least something was proceeding normally.

She was waiting by his office when he came in.

"Good morning, Doctor Turner." she greeted formally.

"Good morning, Nurse Mannion." he replied. At least she was speaking to him.

They stood in silence for a few moments before she reached out her hand. He tentatively reached his own out to meet hers and he nearly stopped breathing when she took it and shook it firmly.

"It's good to see you, Patrick." she smiled and headed off to her first appointment.

It was going to take time, but they weren't lost to each other and at the moment, that was all that mattered.

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35 down, 15 to go! Sorry this one was a gut punch. :(


	36. Well This Is Awkward

**Prompt 36:** "Well, this is awkward."

 **Summary:** THE MODERN DAY COFFEE SHOP AU. Okay, Ginchy, it's happening. You're getting your coffee love! I'm slightly changing it from the traditional coffee shop AU, but it's still going to be fluffy and cute, just with more medicine thrown in, lol!

 **A/N:** You guys were LIT for the coffee shop AU, so I hope this lives up to expectations!

 **Disclaimer:** I own nothing.

* * *

"No, no, no, no, no." she muttered to herself as she ran down the hospital corridor. She counted the room numbers on the doors. "206, 208, 210, 212!" She skidded to a halt outside patient room 212 and felt her heart drop at the sign that read _Section A is rescheduled to Room 315 for 8:30 observations._ "Crap!"

Shelagh Mannion was hideously late and she was _never_ late. It wasn't even her fault. Her roommate's alarm clock had broken and rather than asking Shelagh if she could borrow hers, she just took it when she rolled in at 2am, so Shelagh overslept. Then, she had to wait an extra 20 minutes for her bus because she missed her normal one and of course the following bus was late.

Then of course, to top it all off, she'd crashed into one of the doctors on her way in and spilled his coffee all over both of them and now she smelled like the hideous black coffee from Nonnatus Brews a whole six hours before her barista shift started. She couldn't understand how anyone actually drank their coffee, but she supposed hospital scheduling made people desperate. She still stuck to her reliable tea.

Tea wasn't going to change the fact that her observation seminar started at 8:30 and it was now 8:35 and she was on the wrong floor. Not bothering to catch her breath, she sped off up the stairs and darted out of the stairwell only to collide once more with oblivious-doctor-coffee-stain. Really, how was it possible that her day was still getting worse?

"Will you watch where you're going?" she snapped, exasperated. She didn't bother to check his response to her behavior, although if she had, she would've been shocked to find it was more amusement than anger. Instead, she nearly pushed him out of the way and ran to her seminar.

Outside room 315, Doctor Patrick Turner shook his head in bewilderment. Truth be told, he wasn't always the most observant about his surroundings, but this was the second time that morning he'd bumped into the pretty young nursing student and only the second time was an accident. Patrick had noticed his mystery girl about a month ago. He'd been covering in the General Ward while she'd been seeing to charts and vitals and he'd been struck by how she took time to check in with each of the patients. Most of the other nurses and residents did their jobs as quickly as possible in the hopes of a moment in the break room, but not this one. The small, petite, nurse with the beautiful dirty-blonde hair actually cared about her job and it drew him to her like a moth to a flame. He didn't see her frequently as he was largely sequestered to obstetrics, but whenever he did, he fell more and more infatuated. He had yet to learn her name or say two words to her, though, which was why when she got off the bus that morning, he hurried over to introduce himself. He hadn't noticed that she was in a terrible rush and not paying attention until it was too late and his coffee was seeping into both their clothes. He'd only just gotten over than embarrassment when she burst out of the stairwell and nearly sent them both to the floor. He didn't know what the universe intended for them, but he didn't think it was going well.

4:30pm saw Shelagh miserably filling to-go cups with seemingly-endless putrid coffee at Nonnatus Brews. Doctor Ursula McGinnis, as expected, had no tolerance for tardiness, even though she'd been early and attentive for every single moment of her life at the hospital until that point. Doctor McGinnis wasn't a yeller, but at the end of the observation, she took the time to calmly explain to the entire group that she would not tolerate slackers and that anyone who couldn't be bothered to show up on time should consider never showing up again. The rest of the nurses had been rather offended on her behalf, knowing she was easily the hardest working of them all, but Shelagh had never felt worse about herself and it was all she could do now to pour drinks without crying.

"Shelagh, can you cover the register for a moment?" Shelagh looked over and saw Trixie desperately crossing her legs and pleading with her eyes.

"Sure thing, Trix. Go ahead." Trixie barely squeaked out a 'thank you' before she ran to the back. It left Shelagh alone for a moment, but 4pm was never a very busy time, so Shelagh didn't mind. With no one in line, she turned her attention to counting the register. She didn't need to do it yet, but numbers and order would take her mind off Doctor McGinnis and Shelagh's new-found certainty that she was going to be let go. She was so entranced with counting that she didn't hear the bell above the door to the shop ring.

"Excuse me." A man's voice tried to grab her attention as gently as possible, but it still startled her and when she jumped, her wrist slammed into the open drawer of the cash register.

"Ow, shit." she swore under her breath. She looked up and instantly hated Trixie's guts with her entire being for leaving her alone. Of course. It would be him. "Oh, um, I'm sorry sir." She looked up at him and actually took him in for the first time that day and she felt a rush of warmth through her veins. How had she not noticed how handsome he was until now? Oh lord, that made everything from before even worse.

"It's you." he smiled before realizing how odd that sounded. "I mean-"

"I'm sorry for-"

"I've seen you around-"

"I was late and-"

"Not that I've been following-"

They both stopped and looked at each other.

"I, um, didn't know you worked here." he tried again.

"Oh, yeah, um, part time. When I'm not at the hospital." she stammered lamely.

Trixie skipped back through the curtain to the staff area, immediately noticing the handsome doctor biding his time with Shelagh.

"Hello Doctor, what can we get for you?" Trixie asked flirtatiously, keeping one eye on Shelagh's reaction. She was immensely satisfied to see Shelagh's lips thin in subconscious irritation.

"Oh, um, just a black coffee if you please. Have a bit of a caffeine headache." he requested, his eyes barely leaving the Scottish nurse. Trixie beamed.

"Absolutely, that'll be 1.5 pounds-"

"It's on the house." Shelagh insisted. "It's the least I can do since I'm the reason you didn't get your first cup of caffeine." she spoke softly, and kicked herself for being so unsure. She worked with doctors everyday, why did this particular, disheveled one get under her skin like this?

Trixie was looking at her like she had two heads. She never gave discounts to anyone.

"You know, Shelagh, you're due for your break and you covered for me. Why don't you grab a tea and take a seat for a few minutes?" Trixie suggested knowingly, making eye contact with Patrick.

"Trixie, you know I never take my break. I'm fine." Shelagh tried to insist, now very nervous and hating the fluttering feeling in her stomach.

"Nonsense. Take a seat, Doctor. _Shelagh_ here will bring you your coffee in a moment." Shelagh glared as Trixie grinned triumphantly.

"Um, thank you." Patrick smiled awkwardly and made his way to a small corner table.

"What are you doing?" Shelagh hissed as soon as he was out of hearing range.

"What?" Trixie asked innocently as she put together Shelagh's favorite tea.

"You know what." Shelagh replied. "I can't take my break now, he'll try and talk to me."

"Would that be so bad?" Trixie asked. "He's clearly noticed you."

"Of course he's noticed me, I nearly ran him over twice today." Shelagh grimaced.

"I didn't mean like that. Did you notice the way he looked at you? He clearly didn't mind being run over…" Trixie suggested with a wiggle of her eyebrows.

"I don't know him." Shelagh sighed.

"And now is the perfect time to change that!" Trixie exclaimed happily as she handed Shelagh her tea and Patrick's coffee. "Now, go. I don't want to see your apron back on for 15 minutes."

Shelagh took a deep breath and made her way over to Patrick's table. She tried to subtly take him in as she walked. He really was handsome. Not in the clean-cut way that many of the doctors were, but in a more careworn way. He clearly worked long hours - possibly longer than his colleagues if he was here this morning and drinking black coffee at 4:30 this afternoon. His hair was unkempt, but it looked so soft and she had the sudden urge to run her fingers through it and smooth it back from his forehead: an urge that quickly died as she got closer and saw the giant coffee stain on his lab coat.

"One black coffee, Doctor…"

"Turner." he readily supplied. "But we're not in the hospital, you can call me Patrick if you like." She really would like, but an equal part of her just wanted to sink through the floor and die. "And you are Shelagh…?"

"Mannion." Okay, apparently she'd decided to talk to him. "Nurse Shelagh Mannion."

"It's nice to meet you in less dramatic circumstances, Nurse Mannion." he held out his hand and she took it hesitantly. The minute their skin touched, she felt every nerve in her body soar and had she not been distracted by how lovely his dark eyes were, she would've chided herself for acting like a love-struck fool. She didn't know how long she just stood there holding his hand like an idiot.

"Well, this is awkward." she sighed, humiliated that she had nothing to say.

"Would you care to join me?" he asked hopefully.

"Really?" she asked in disbelief. He nodded earnestly and she took the chair across from him. Perhaps her day was looking up after all? "I am truly sorry about this morning." she apologized.

"It's alright." he insisted. "I've had far worse than coffee on this coat."

"I'm not so sure about that, I think I might take blood over Nonnatus coffee." she lowered her voice conspiratorially. He laughed out loud.

"Are you allowed to say that?" he asked, absolutely taken with the confusing combination of shy and sassy before him.

"Well, I'm on break right now, so I don't think it counts." she blushed.

He took a drink of his coffee before broaching a slightly more serious subject.

"I hope Doctor McGinnis wasn't too hard on you." Shelagh's face fell.

"She, um, certainly doesn't mince her words." she admitted sadly.

"I'm sorry. She can be a right pain the arse." Patrick sighed. Shelagh's eyes shot up. "I don't know what she said, but don't take it to heart. You're a wonderful nurse."

"How would you know?" Shelagh asked a little more honestly than she would've liked. She hated undeserved praise almost more than undeserved punishment. Luckily her snark didn't seem to phase him.

"I saw you when I was working in the general ward. You truly care about your patients. It's a rare trait around here, so I noticed immediately." he admitted.

"I've always wanted to be a nurse." Shelagh agreed modestly. "My mother passed when I was a child, but she was sick for nearly a year before hand. I remember visiting her in the hospital and seeing how cold and unfeeling everyone was. I remember thinking that maybe, if someone had been there for her when my father and I couldn't be, then maybe she would have lived longer. I know it sounds silly...and I don't know why I just told you that, I'm sorry."

"Don't be." he insisted. "It's wonderfully refreshing to find someone who's here out of passion instead of money or ambition." Shelagh blushed again, she really needed to get that under control. She hid her face behind her tea as she drank.

"Shelagh, I hate to interrupt, but Julieanne's across the street and she can't catch you sitting with a handsome doctor!" Trixie shouted out. Shelagh buried her face into her hands.

"Your friend is quite, um, outspoken." Patrick laughed.

"I'm sorry, I should go." Shelagh reluctantly apologized.

"Of course, I'm sorry to keep you."

She stood and started towards the counter, but in a moment of bravery turned back around.

"Will I see you around?" she asked hopefully.

"I usually go to Violet's, it's a little closer to the hospital," he paused, "but I think I might have a new favorite place."

Shelagh smiled happily.

"By the way, if you haven't chosen a specialty yet, obstetrics would love to have you. You'd be a natural." he put his empty coffee cup back on the counter before heading out the door and back to the hospital, holding the door for Julieanne as she hurried inside.

"Everything running smoothly today, girls?" she asked Shelagh and Trixie.

"Smooth as can be." Shelagh replied as she gazed out the window, following his retreating figure.

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36 down, 14 to go! Hope you enjoy!


	37. You're Lucky You're Cute

**Prompt 27:** "You're lucky you're cute."

 **Summary:** A follow-up scene to the breastfeeding discussion in 4x01

 **A/N:** Thank you so much to the INCREDIBLE response this series is still getting. I am so honored that people love this story and so happy to write for you guys! Updates will be coming less-frequently as I'll be very busy over the next couple of weeks, but I'm going to do my best! Sorry, this one's a little shorter than usual. Also, omg it's almost time, guys. ALMOST TIME. The 21st. I can't breathe.

 **Disclaimer:** I own nothing.

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"I think Angela's finally asleep." whispered Patrick as he peeked over the lop of the latest Lancet and looked over towards the cot by the foot of their bed. Shelagh broke her gaze from her own book and sat up to check. Patrick smirked. It was an on-going amusement to him that he could casually see their daughter from where he sat, but his height-challenged wife had to push herself up a bit with her hands. He knew the minute Shelagh saw, Angela, though. Her eyes sparkled just a bit more and her face relaxed in a picture of domestic bliss.

"Do you think she might stay asleep tonight?" Shelagh asked hopefully. Patrick chuckled doubtfully.

"According to you, she napped most of the day. I give her until the end of this article." he turned his attention back to his Lancet, not noticing that Shelagh was also gazing at his reading material, thoughtfully. "It really is fascinating, this piece that Tim was referencing. Not that I think you should bring it up in class - the mothers don't need that kind of stress. I still can't believe he nicked it before I could read it. I thought it'd been lost in the post."

"Sure you're not worried you have a rival on your hands?" Shelagh teased, though, her heart wasn't fully in it.

"Oh, you're lucky you're cute." Patrick quipped back, taking his gaze from the words to Shelagh's face. His smile deflated at the sadness in her eyes. "Shelagh, darling, what is it?" He realized as soon as the words were out of his mouth. Christ, how could he not have noticed? "Oh, no, I'm sorry, I didn't even think. I should've stopped Tim."

"No, you shouldn't have, Patrick." she sighed. "I don't ever want to discourage his curiosity or his enthusiasm...and anyway, it wasn't just Tim. One of the women in the class mentioned that breastfeeding is one of the ways a mother bonds with her child and between that and the immunity effects…"

Patrick gathered her up into his arms as she buried her face into his chest. She wasn't crying, but she was pretty sure it was simply because she was too tired. Her sense of defeat hit him harder than her tears ever had, though.

"You are not a bad mother, Shelagh." he insisted, hitting her fears square in the face. "Angela is so lucky to have you."

"I feel as though no matter what I do, it will never be enough." Shelagh whispered sadly. "I can't even keep her safe."

"She doesn't need antibodies to be safe. You know just as well as I do that there are millions of dangers out in the world far scarier than a few bacterial compounds that eventually wear off."

Shelagh didn't respond except to further turn her face into him and fiddle with the buttons of his nightshirt.

"You and I love Angela more fiercely than anyone in this world," he continued, "and that is what is going to matter at the end of the day. When she's grown a bit and needs help with her homework, or is crying because someone hurt her feelings, or she's scared of going off to university, it's not going to matter whether or not she was breastfed. She's just going to want her mum."

Shelagh broke and softly sniffled against him.

From the foot of the bed, Patrick heard a small whimper of curious awareness and he smiled.

"I think someone heard us." he grinned. Patrick gently eased Shelagh off of him and let her snuggle into his warm spot on his side of the bed as he went to retrieve the youngest Turner. He gently brought Angela back to the head of the bed and sat next to a slightly-reassured Shelagh. "What do you think, Angela? Do you have best mummy in Poplar?"

Angela reached out for Shelagh and made the soft, gentle babbles they'd come to associate with her wanting to touch something or someone nearby. Shelagh beamed with happiness and sat up to cradle her little girl against her. Angela immediately settled and fell back asleep in her arms.

"I think the verdict's been decided, don't you?" Patrick whispered lovingly.

Shelagh smiled at his words, but her eyes were only for her daughter.

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37 down, 13 to go! We're getting there! Hope you enjoy. :D


	38. I Think You're Just Afraid

**Prompt 38:** "I think you're just afraid to be happy."

 **Summary:** Patrick and Shelagh discuss their cancelled and their (hopefully?) upcoming wedding. Set during the time jump in the 2013 Christmas special.

 **A/N:** Sorry it's been so long! We're getting a musical up on its feet and ready to tour the country in 10 days and lately when I get home, I succeed in shoving down dinner and passing out, lol. Speed will actually increase when we hit the road! Yay travel/writing time!

 **Disclaimer:** I own nothing.

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They both expected the other to bring it up the day after Timothy had woken, but neither did. In the midst of the late nights, long days, and exhaustion made worse with worry, it was easy to forget that under other circumstances, they would have been married a week already. At first, Patrick was grateful Shelagh didn't want to discuss rescheduling the wedding. He was still a wreck from spending day after day terrified his son would never wake up and he wasn't sure he had the strength to think of anything else. He thought she was just being supportive and understanding - and she absolutely was. That said, it had been two weeks since they'd brought Timothy home and the closest he'd seen her get to the topic of their wedding was when she put her dress box in the closet because 'Timothy needed as much free space as possible'. When he'd reminded her that Timothy wouldn't be going anywhere without help for some time and she was welcome to leave it out away from the dust, she'd brushed him off and gone into the kitchen to prepare lunch.

He couldn't understand it. They were practically living together already with Timothy needing so much care and truth be told, his recovery had bonded them faster than any of their earlier courting. They were a solid team, and now that they knew Timothy was on the mend, he wanted to be married to her more than anything. Shelagh, however, never seemed to want to talk about it. Had she gone off him? Was she just helping with Tim now out of pity or obligation? He quickly dismissed those fears as soon as they surfaced. Just the other night, he'd had to practically pry her off of him before they lost their minds on the couch. She certainly still wanted him.

So, what was it?

He resolved to finally talk to her when she came back from Timothy's room. A door softly shut and Patrick turned his gaze automatically to the sound. His Shelagh was so beautiful in the lamp light. She was beautiful every minute of everyday, but seeing her half-lit in his flat, she radiated a sense of belonging rarely seen on her face in the past few years and it was stunning. Even more reason for them to talk…

"I think he's finally asleep." she spoke softly walking into the sitting room. "He can't get comfortable, but he also can't move around easily to get comfortable." she sighed. "I think he tired himself out in the end." Shelagh settled on the couch with Patrick and eagerly leaned against him, thrilled at the peace she felt in his arms.

"I wish there was something more I could do for him." Patrick admitted. "Everytime I talk to him, I feel as though he's looking at me and asking for a cure I can't provide."

"He knows you would fix everything if you could, Patrick." she soothed. "We both would." He kissed the top of her head and sat up to look at her properly.

"I know you would." he paused, trying to think of the best way to approach the subject. "You know he already thinks of you as a mother." He hoped that would make her smile, but instead, she cast her eyes downward. "Shelagh? I thought that was a good thing."

"It is." she replied, still sadly. "I...I want to be his mother so very badly..."

"But…" he urged.

"I don't know." she replied honestly. Patrick paused before his next question because the very idea of her saying no made him want to die.

"Do you...do you still want to marry me?" he asked, forcing the fear from his voice, if not his eyes.

Shelagh finally looked up and took his hand. Her physical actions could speak to her certainty even if she struggled with the words.

"I love you, Patrick. I want to marry you." she promised.

"Then why haven't you been willing to talk about rescheduling the wedding?" he finally asked. Shelagh drew back a bit.

"I...I never said we couldn't." she knew it was a poor excuse even as the words left her mouth.

"Shelagh, everytime I bring up anything having the slightest bit to do with the wedding, you change the subject or leave the room. You've hidden your dress away in the closet -"

"Because I don't want it." she whispered miserably.

"What? Why?" Patrick asked. He never meant to hurt her, he just wanted answers.

"Because it's grey." she admitted shyly. "I know I'm...entitled...to a white dress, but I didn't think I should have one with all of the gossip." She felt tears brimming, but she desperately didn't want to cry, not when he had so much else to worry about. "And now all I want to do is marry you in a white dress with beautiful flowers and I can't."

"Darling, no one is saying we can't do that." he insisted warmly.

"Everything is saying we can't, Patrick." she felt a few tears escape and chastised herself for not being stronger for him. "We were going to have a small wedding and then Timothy got Polio and now it seems heartless to do anything except go down to the registry in plain clothes while he's recovering."

"Oh, Shelagh." he sighed, understanding dawning as he hugged her to him and let her cry. "I think you're just afraid to be happy."

"I've no right to be happy when so much needs mending." she cried into his jumper.

"But you've started that mending process." He pointed out. "You've reconciled with Sister Julienne and the Sisters, you're slowly rebuilding your friendships with the nurses, you're taking exemplary care of Timothy, and you're doing it all so honestly that even the most vicious gossip has died down quite a bit. You're allowed to be happy, Shelagh. You haven't hurt anyone and the people who love you would love to attend your wedding."

"Our wedding." he heard muffled against his chest. He chuckled.

"Our wedding." he corrected. "Darling, I'm not saying we have to get married tomorrow, or even this month. I just think that setting a date would give us all something to look forward to in all of this sadness and I think we're ready to take that step."

He waited in silence while she breathed deeply against the wool that tickled her nose, but filled her senses with his smell. She wanted to spend the rest of her life immersed in that feeling.

"Do you think March or April would give us enough time to invite people?" she asked, truly smiling for the first time in weeks.

Patrick didn't even bother to answer her. Cupping her face, he pulled her up to meet his lips and lay her down beneath him. Timothy was fast asleep and he was confident their couch didn't have any aversions to mushy stuff.

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38 down, 12 to go! Hope you enjoy!


	39. Just be my Best Friend

**Prompt 39:** "Just please be my best friend right now, not the guy (man) I just confessed my love to."

 **Summary:** The prospect of death brings out the truth more often than not. Set in the midst of 2x06 after Patrick tells Sister Bernadette that she has TB, but before she goes to the sanatorium.

 **A/N:** Returning to Season 2 because as much as I loved 7x01 to pieces, I desperately miss the slower pacing of the earlier seasons. I would way rather have one, amazing Turnadette scene that's a whole minute long than several 20 second scenes that are largely expositional! Okay, mini rant over.

 **Disclaimer:** I own nothing.

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Sister Bernadette thought that nothing could make her feel worse than her tormented feelings for Dr. Turner, but that was before she got Tuberculosis. Then, she thought that nothing could make her feel worse than knowing her body was being slowly attacked by a deadly disease, but that was before she blatantly lied to Sister Julienne.

" _It wasn't a complete lie."_ she tried to justify to herself. To be fair, there was nothing untoward about Sister Julienne asking if she would like Dr. Turner to call on her later to see how she was faring and there was nothing untoward about her accepting the offer. What was untoward, at least to Sister Bernadette, was that she accepted the offer for personal reasons, not medical ones. She was no worse off that she was when he told her of her diagnosis the day before and even if she was, there wasn't anything he could do except get her to St. Anne's a little faster. No, she wanted him to come because she wanted to see him and that...that she couldn't admit to Sister Julienne.

It was foolish. What could she possibly say to him that she couldn't say the day before? She knew what she wanted to say. She wanted to tell him that in months of dark confusion, he'd been the only constant light. She wanted to tell him that she couldn't bear the thought of dying, not for herself, but because she couldn't fathom the idea of putting him or Timothy through anymore pain and she was finally desperate enough to let herself believe that they cared. She wanted to tell him that in hindsight, she'd been developing feelings for him for far longer than she realized. She wanted to tell him that she valued his friendship more than anyone she'd ever known. She wanted to tell him that she loved him.

But she couldn't. Not in good conscience.

Instead, she let herself turn to her diary, the only confidant she had, and wrote another letter she would never send. After writing it, she would crumple it up and throw it in the fire, just as she had done with all the others.

 _Dear_ _Greetings, Dr. Turner,_

 _There are many things I don't know, and so very many things I don't know how to say, but I do know you will never read this, and that gives me comfort. Yesterday, our victory turned to defeat. I am overjoyed to see so many of our patients receive such exemplary care, but I am saddened that one of those patients is myself._

 _Please_ _I must admit that I am frightened, Dr. Turner. I do not like to admit that - very little scares me now - but I am so very frightened._ _I believe_ _I know that I am not afraid of dying itself. I have seen death many times and I know that if it claims me, I will be in a peaceful place,_ _though I will miss you terribly._ _I am afraid, though, of leaving this earth without ever telling you how much I care. Even now, knowing you will never read this, I find it difficult to write the words. I have never written them before. I feel as though I should, now. Tomorrow, you will take me to the Sanitorium and I will begin the Triple Treatment. You and I both know the potential side effects of such treatment, not to mention the notion that it might not work at all._

 _And so I must write it now. Even if I am the only one who sees it. If I am to not return to Poplar, I wish to do so with a clean conscience._

 _I love you, Dr. Turner._

 _Sincerely,_

 _Sister Bernadette_

 _Yours,_

 _Shelagh Mannion_

She stared in shock and wonder at the page before her. A part of her was surprised she even remembered her Christian name. She hadn't thought about Shelagh in some time, but in recent months, she'd let her mind wander to how Shelagh might feel about her current predicament and wondered what Shelagh would do.

"Shelagh will never know." she whispered to herself as she ripped the letter her of her diary. She crumpled it in her hand and moved to go downstairs to the fireplace, but she stood up far too fast for her new-found breathlessness and in a moment, everything was black.

Thirty minutes later, Dr. Turner arrived at Nonnatus, heartbroken, anxious, but still secretly uplifted at the thought of seeing Sister Bernadette. Sister Julienne let him in gratefully and walked him to her room.

"Hopefully she's resting at the moment." Sister Julienne remarked sadly, knowing it was unlikely her younger Sister was handling bed rest well. "Would you like me to stay?"

"I'm sure you're very busy with Sister Bernadette off the rota." he spoke a little too quickly. "I'll be sure to find you or Sister Evangelina if she needs a proper examination."

Sister Julienne nodded, her suspicions aroused, but not confirmed.

"Thank you, Dr. Turner." the older woman departed with a last look at how the doctor's hand trembled as he reached for the door handle.

Patrick shook as he opened the door, but all nervousness left him at the sight of the woman he loved lying half draped on her bed.

"Sister Bernadette!" he whispered, alarmed. He hurried to her side and checked her pulse, audibly relieved to find she had likely just stood up too quickly. Unsure of the proper behavior, but unwilling to call Sister Julienne for what was not at all an emergency, he carefully lifted her legs off the floor and turned her so she was lying fully above the duvet. As he shifted her, he noticed a crumpled piece of paper fall out of her hand. He reached down to pick it up and would've thought it was garbage had he not seen his name written elegantly across the top line.

 _Dear_ _Greetings, Dr. Turner,_

It was addressed to him. From her. He knew he probably shouldn't read it if she'd crumpled it up, but his curiosity got the better of him and he gently flattened the page.

He read it. Then he read it again. Then a third time. Then a tenth time.

His hands shook, his eyes blinked, his heart raced.

She loved him.

He didn't know how long he'd been sitting by her bedside, staring at the worn piece of paper before she woke.

"Dr. Turner?" she asked, eyes blurry from losing her glasses, which he quickly handed to her.

"Sister Bernadette, how are you feeling?" he asked lovingly, forgetting to stop his tone of voice. If she noticed, she didn't let on.

"A little dizzy." she spoke softly. "Did I fall asle-" Her eyes rested on the paper in his hands and she felt the blood drain out of her face. "No. No, no, no." she whispered to herself, refusing to look at him.

"It's alright." he tried to soothe, not wanting to send her into another dizzy spell.

"It's not alright!" she panicked. "You weren't supposed to read it!"

"Are you truly sorry I did?" he asked before he could stop himself. "I'm sorry...I shouldn't have...I should go."

"No." she protested as he stood to leave. "Please stay. Just…"

"What is it, Sister?" he asked gently.

"Can you just please be my best friend right now? Not the man I just confessed my love to?" she asked shyly.

His heart melted. Did she not know he would do anything for her?

"Of course I can." he promised as he made his way back to the chair by her bedside. "What would you like me to say?" he asked honestly.

She paused for a moment. There were so many answers to that question, but just then, she couldn't bear to hear any of them - not even if one of them was to hear him say he loved her back.

"Can you tell me about today's cases? And about Timothy's school day?" she asked earnestly.

"I think I can manage that." he replied.

And he could. He couldn't manage the fact that she might die, he couldn't manage knowing she loved him and not being allowed to say it back, but he could manage to tell her facts and truths. He would keep their relationship factual and medical until medicine saved her and he didn't have to hide the true facts anymore.

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39 down, 11 to go! Hope you enjoy!


	40. Please Come Home, I Miss You

**Prompt 40:** "Please come home, I miss you."

 **Summary:** Alternate end of Season 3 reconciliation that takes place before they get approved by the adoption agency because I never really loved that the letter sparked them talking. I mean, what if they hadn't been approved? Anyway, this is just what I think might have happened if they tried to fix things pre-letter. Also, I'm having a bit of a rough time right now, so this is a little angsty, but it has a happy ending.

 **Disclaimer:** I own nothing.

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Shelagh had never felt so alone, or so fearful. She'd thought she understood what loneliness meant as an only child with no friends and a distant father. She'd thought she understood what it meant as a nursing student with only her studies and her bible to guide her. She'd certainly thought she understood it in the Sanitorium; miles from anyone she cared for, and seemingly oceans away from the man she loved. She didn't though. Only now, as a wife and mother, did she understand what it meant to open her heart to someone and have them leave it out in the cold. In a dark, secret part of her soul, she yearned for the days before she allowed herself to love or care. At least, back then, if people left her, it only stung. This didn't sting - this ached and howled through her body like broken glass that shattered and twisted further at every reminder that it was long after Timothy's bedtime and Patrick hadn't come home.

The fresh pie on the table mocked her from her defeated position on the couch. It was the first night since their fight that she knew he wasn't on call and she'd taken the opportunity to make his favorite pie in the hopes of them finally reconciling. That hope dwindled, however, as the hours passed and the sun set, and it became clear that her husband was going out of his way to avoid her.

Not that he needed to be out of the house to do that. Even at night, when it was just the two of them in their slightly cramped bed, he was miles away. The other night, she'd reached out to hold his hand as he slept, and he rolled away from her. She didn't even know if he'd done it consciously, but the memory brought fresh tears to her eyes and she angrily stomped over to the kitchen table.

" _He probably wouldn't like it anyway."_ She furiously thought to herself. She stared down at the cold pie for a moment before carrying it into the kitchen and hurling it into the sink, tray and all. She winced at the sound of the smashing ceramic and berated herself for making so much noise when Timothy was asleep. What was happening to her? She reached into the basin and began to remove the larger shards. The remains of the pie hid some of the edges, though, and as she went to grab the next piece, she yelped in pain and a stream of crimson joined the white and brown in the sink. " _How fitting..."_ she thought sadly as she glanced down at her bleeding palm. The new cut, a remnant of their separation, lay barely centimeters from the scar that brought them together.

She traced the old scar and watched as her fingers gently smudged new blood over the old wound. A new, bright surge of determination filled her. They couldn't go on like this. She couldn't keep waiting for someone who was too afraid or hurt to come to her. She would have to go to him. It was foolish of her to think that their fight would magically heal with a few kind gestures. It would be a scar for the rest of their lives, and they would gain more scars as time went on, but this wound couldn't even begin to scar over until they cleaned it - even if it stung.

Checking to make sure Timothy was still asleep, she quietly left for the surgery.

As expected, the light in Patrick's office was still on. She thanked God for that small blessing. At least, even when they were fighting, she could trust that Patrick would hide in his work rather than at the pub or with another woman - something she could not say of every husband in Poplar.

He didn't look up when she walked in. His eyes were glued to his desk, but she suspected he wasn't actually reading the notes in front of him. His face lacked the focused wrinkles she'd so come to love, and instead, looked a bit glazed over.

"You're not on call." she spoke matter-of-factly, but softly so as not to startle him. He looked up slowly and then glanced down somewhat sheepishly when he registered it was her.

"Yes. I just had a bit of work to catch up on." he excused lamely.

An awkward silence hung between them until she found the courage to make the first move.

"Please come home." she asked pleadingly.

"I will…" he struggled. "...I just have to finish these."

"No, Patrick." she shook her head and moved closer to the desk. "Please come home, I miss you." she could see the faint lingering of a protest on his lips, so she forced herself to continue. "And I don't mean come back to the flat and pretend as though everything is fine. I miss _you._ I want you to come home to me." she hung her head, suddenly terrified he might say no and send her crumbling past the point of no return.

"I don't know how." he finally whispered. "I don't know what to say to make things better."

"I don't either." she admitted. "I just know that I can't bear this anymore. I'm so sorry, Patrick. I should never have said those things to you." she softly cried. He stood from his chair and walked quickly over to take her in his arms. She melted into his embrace, starved for his affections.

"I'm sorry, Shelagh." he hugged her tight. "I ruined everything, I'm so terribly sorry."

"You didn't ruin anything." she insisted. "I never meant to make you feel that way."

"I should have told you. You were blindsided in the interview, I never should have kept that a secret."

Shelagh pulled back to look him in the eye.

"No, Patrick. You shouldn't have felt pressured to tell me, and I should have listened when you tried." she spoke levelly, but her eyes still shone and his heart burst with how much he loved her and how desperately he wished he could wave a magic wand and give her the child she so desperately wanted.

"But we might not get approved now." he murmured, terrified to speak the words a loud that had been rattling in his head for days.

Shelagh's head fell a bit, but she took his hands.

"I know." she sighed. "But I was foolish to put an imaginary child before you. I love you so dearly, and I'm sorry that for a time, I felt as though that wouldn't be enough." The words burned her mouth as she spoke them, but she knew she needed to. He needed her to. They both knew that was a large part of why he was so hurt, but neither wanted to admit it. "You and Timothy will always be more than enough, Patrick. The two of you are everything to me." she promised.

He leaned down and truly kissed her for the first time in days and she felt the weight of the world lift off her exhausted heart.

"Back to the flat?" he suggested with a shy smile. She gratefully took his hand and they left his office behind. Talking would come over the next few days, for now, they just needed to go home.

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40 down, 10 to go! We enter the last 5th...hope you enjoy!


	41. I've Been In Love With You

**Prompt 41:** "What if I told you I've been in love with you since we were kids?"

 **Summary:** Patrick and Shelagh have a conversation after Trixie and Christopher's wedding.

 **A/N:** Let me tell you, this prompt has been mocking me for months because of the fricken 17-year age gap…

 **Disclaimer:** I own nothing.

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Even though Patrick had teased her about packing an extra handkerchief, Shelagh was extremely grateful she'd done so. From the moment Trixie began her walk down the aisle, Shelagh hadn't been able to stem the steady stream of tears. It had taken so long for Trixie and Christopher to reconcile after she'd fallen back into alcohol and Shelagh had been there for her every step of the way - from the tear filled conversation about how Christopher would never want her back, to the fearful talk about premarital sex, to the pure joy when Trixie had shown her her sparkling new engagement ring. Now, Trixie looked radiant, and the look of coming home that graced her face brought Shelagh happily back to her own wedding day six years prior. Two babies, countless obstacles, and endless amounts of love later, Shelagh still felt perfectly at home and she couldn't be happier to see her dear friend find that same bliss.

Long after the newlyweds had left on their honeymoon and Tim had taken Angela and Teddy home, Shelagh and Patrick walked hand in hand in the warm summer night.

"I hate to say it, darling, but we should probably head home soon." Patrick reluctantly suggested. He chuckled as Shelagh lightly groaned beside him. It had been ages since they'd had a night to themselves and the lingering magic of the wedding still hung warmly over them.

"Tim's more than capable of taking care of them for a little while longer." she smiled playfully. He pulled her into the crook of his arm and let his hand hold her against him.

"Who would've thought the day would come when Shelagh Turner would want time away from her children?" he teased. She smiled and rolled her eyes. A couple of years ago, his words might have offended her and she'd already be knees deep in assurances that she loved their children, but they'd come a long way since then. She'd learned to take herself less seriously and he'd learned the intricacies of how far he could push and what topics were strictly off limits.

"I won't deny that the wedding put other things on my mind." she admitted shyly.

"Oh?" he asked knowingly. "Like honeymoons and hotels?" He stopped and spun her into him, kissing her fully on the lips. She hummed blissfully into his mouth and let herself indulge in more of a public display than she would normally allow him.

"Partly," she whispered mischievously as she peppered his face with kisses, "but their vows also made me wonder about something."

Patrick wracked his brain, the beautiful vows he'd heard earlier suddenly meaningless with Shelagh in his arms. "Their vows?" he asked.

"Yes, well," she paused, suddenly unsure if she should ask, but hopelessly curious, "Trixie and Christopher both mentioned that despite everything, deep down, they knew they loved each other just after their first outing…"

"...and?" Patrick urged. He had a good idea of where she was going, but he didn't want to presume.

"And, it just made me curious...do you know when you fell in love with me?" she asked it quietly and honestly he wasn't surprised. They'd talked about many hard topics over the years, but they'd always side-stepped actually talking about the development of their feelings. He supposed on some level, they were both afraid of their answers given their unorthodox history. They rarely got side-eyed glances any more, but there was still the occasional sneer towards their marriage and he knew Shelagh was still somewhat sensitive because of it.

"What if I told you I've been in love with you since we were kids?" he asked jokingly and obviously trying to avoid a serious answer. She laughed.

"Then I think I'd have a few more questions for you...as would Constable Noakes." she teased back.

"Cheeky." he chided with a grin.

"You started it, Cliff Richards." she quipped back and he rolled his eyes and kissed her forehead. "You're avoiding the question, Patrick." He sighed.

"I know, I'm sorry." he paused again. "I'm just not sure I have the romantic answer you're looking for."

"I'm not looking for a romantic answer, dearest, I'm just curious." she explained.

"Do you know when you fell in love?" he asked. She opened her mouth to answer, but then closed it, suddenly ashamed. "It's alright, Shelagh, we don't have to talk about it."

"I feel like it's something we should be able to tell each other, though." she replied sadly. She knew it was silly, but she felt as though every couple knew the moment they fell in love and she wanted to have that moment - the trouble was, she knew exactly what that moment was, she just didn't know if he would think it strange or inappropriate. " _You're being ridiculous. You're married."_ she chided herself.

"I do know the answer, you know." he admitted. She looked at him expectantly. "I just don't know if I can tell you."

"I understand." she replied honestly. She really did.

The air hung heavy between them as they made their way back home.

Teddy and Angela were asleep by the time they arrived and if Tim noticed his parents acting strangely, he didn't say anything. Shelagh and Patrick were both grateful for that.

They readied themselves for bed in silence, both desperate to tell the other, but both afraid. It wasn't until hours later, after tossing and turning, that Shelagh caved. Turning to her husband, who she knew was just as awake, she quietly whispered:

"I fell in love with you during the first case we ever worked." she felt Patrick's breathing speed up, but he didn't respond or turn away, so she elaborated. "It was about a month after we first met. Mrs. Grossman's baby-"

"-was transverse." he continued. "I was called in, but I was exhausted and struggling; it was just after Tim was born-"

"-so I told you I could do it-"

"-and you did." he finished. "You saved mother and baby when I wasn't sure I could…" he paused. "I fell in love with you that day as well."

"You did?" Shelagh asked with wide eyes. "But Marianne?"

"I didn't know I'd fallen in love with you." Patrick explained quietly, thoughtfully. "I didn't love Marianne less, I didn't have any desire to leave her or to betray her, I didn't have a name for what I was feeling, but I just...I just knew. I dreamt about you that night." Shelagh's eyes nearly popped out of her head. "Not like that!" he quickly corrected. "I just dreamt about us working together again. It was...so peaceful...like we'd been fit together. I didn't want to tell you, I didn't want you to be conflicted about Marianne."

"It's okay." Shelagh assured. "I didn't want to tell you either. I didn't want you to think I was waiting for my chance, or anything as horrid as that."

"I would never think that, love." he promised. "I know you well enough to know you would never wish for that."

"I just remember leaving that day knowing that I would pray every night for your happiness. I didn't know why I cared so much for you, but I knew I'd never seen someone look so intelligent, and compassionate. I wanted to know that someone was looking out for you as dedicatedly as you looked out for all of Poplar. I know that sounds silly."

"It's not silly, Shelagh." he whispered with a caress against her face. "And I'm glad you told me."

"I'm glad you told me too, Patrick." she whispered lovingly.

"In a way, I really have loved you since we were kids." he teased. "You might be younger than me, but we were both so young and naive back then, we might as well have been children."

"Well, we're certainly not children anymore." Shelagh murmured as she pulled at his pajama top to roll him on top of her.

"Certainly not." he grinned as he lowered his lips to his.

It didn't matter when he'd fallen in love with her. He would be in love with her until his dying breath.

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41 down, 9 to go! Single digits! Hope you enjoy!


	42. Bite Me

**Prompt 42:** "Bite Me"

 **Summary:** Trixie and Phyllis aren't the only ones afraid of spiders in South Africa…

 **A/N:** I'm writing this on the beach in Florida knowing I have to go back up north soon...BUT NOT TODAY!

 **Disclaimer:** I own nothing.

* * *

Their mission to South Africa was turning out to be a huge spectrum of experiences. For every moment they spent agonizing over how to help people who needed so much more than they could give, there was another moment of sheer wonder over a herd of zebra or amusement at how the local children tormented Fred. At times, and especially the other night with Shelagh's daring new nightgown that she insisted she bought "for the climate", the couple felt like they were on vacation. No children (though they missed them), no endless Poplar babies (they missed that slightly less), and most of all, the beautiful feeling of fresh, warm air and serenity rarely found at home - until that horrid Sergeant came and told them they had to move their broken down truck in the middle of the night because it was blocking traffic...right.

In the time it took them to move the truck and make it back to their room, Shelagh had progressed from thinking uncharitable thoughts, to practically plotting how to overthrow the South African government.

"It's just cruel, Patrick. They can't do this." she fumed, slamming the wooden door to their room open.

"I think you'll find they can, darling." he sighed with a smile. He'd given up on trying to calm her down and was now slightly enjoying watching her tiny frame shake with more anger than it could hold. Angry Shelagh, due to her size and consternation, was utterly adorable - when he wasn't the target of her anger, of course.

"They shouldn't be able to, it's barbaric." she spat. "Did you see them the other night? Before they commanded us out of our meeting, they told Roza and Fezeka that they couldn't be around the nurses or Sister Winifred. It's disgusting, Patrick. Oh, I wish I could just - ooh!" She flopped down, frustrated, on the bed and Patrick sat beside her, letting her rest her head on his shoulder. Despite his amusement, he too was horrified by the societal conditions that surrounded them and he did feel for her.

"Shelagh, there's nothing you can do about it right now." he spoke softly as he gently rubbed his thumb over her palm.

"I know." she sighed. "But it doesn't stop me from feeling horribly guilty that we get to go home to luxuries our patients here can barely conceive of."

"I understand. Although, I hate to break it to you, darling, but we kind of do that at home as it is." he admitted with a chuckle. "I'm afraid we've become just a bit bourgeois."

"We have not!" she insisted. Though, as she thought about it, she realized he was absolutely right. The Shelagh Turner of 1959 would never have dared suggest flying to South Africa with a suitcase full of new clothes. The Shelagh of four years ago would have insisted they take the boat with the others and probably altered second-hand clothes from Nonnatus to fit their summer needs. "I suppose that was always a risk with you being the only resident GP."

"I hope becoming 'the doctor's wife' hasn't become too glamorous for you." he teased gently.

"I think our current whereabouts more than make up for it, dearest." she laughed with a look around their room. "Though, I do think there's a certain charm to - PATRICK!" Shelagh screamed as she pushed off Patrick's shoulders to launch herself completely onto the bed as fast as she could.

"What happened?" Patrick asked, afraid she'd hurt herself. He whipped his around to find her now standing on top of their pillows and desperately trying to push her way through the wall behind the bed. "Shelagh?"

"No, no, no, no, no." Shelagh muttered, terrified, as she continued to shift her weight and dig her fingers against the wall.

"Darling, what on earth are you going on about?" he asked, confused, until she shakily pointed to the floor behind him. He slowly turned, convinced a lion must have somehow found its way into their compound. Instead, he found himself staring at a spider, perhaps the size of Angela's hand. Bigger than any they had in Poplar, but nothing to write home about. Realization dawned. "Shelagh Turner, are you afraid of the little spider?" he asked, smile quirking.

"This isn't funny, Patrick. Can you please, please just get rid of it?" she nearly begged with a hint of her former anger brewing behind her eyes.

"You've never been afraid of spiders." he observed.

"I don't like spiders, alright!" she nearly shrieked. "Yes, I grew up on a farm. Yes, I am always conveniently busy if Timothy or Angela sees one. No, I am not moving until that...thing is gone."

"Shelagh, it's not even poisonous. It can't hurt you." he laughed as he casually scooped up the spider into his palm. Shelagh visibly paled and he might have been offended by the disgust in her eyes were the situation not so absolutely hilarious. Knowing she would likely be too paralyzed to inflict bodily harm, he moved towards the bed, spider in hand.

"Patrick what are you doing?" she panicked, eyes going wide and darting between his face and his cupped hands.

"I just want you to see that it can't hurt you, love." he promised, somewhat truthfully.

"I am not Angela, Patrick Turner! I do not need to learn about how animals are my friends, and I certainly don't need you to take another step towards me." she argued.

"Shelagh, I don't think you're a child." he insisted. "I just think if we're going to be here for some time, it would do you good to - Shelagh!" he shouted as she tumbled off the side of the bed. He'd been so focused on her face that he hadn't noticed her subconsciously moving further and further away from him and closer and closer to the edge of the mattress. He quickly threw the spider out the window and hurried to her side. "Are you alright?" he moved to help her off the floor and check for bruising but the glare she sent him told him to stay exactly where he was.

"Do not even think about touching me before washing your hands." she warned lowly. "I'm fine."

He refused to move until he saw her successfully get herself up, but then he relented at went to rinse off.

"What were you thinking Patrick? It could've bitten you. It could've bitten us both, and then who would take care of Timothy and Angela?" she continued her tirade as he walked back to bed.

"I don't think it would've come to either of us dying, love." he countered, accepting that he shouldn't have pushed her and watching her deflate a bit. "I am sorry though, I should never have scared you like that."

"It's alright." she sighed. "I'm sorry I panicked. I know it's silly, but I can't help it."

"Can I ask why?" he wondered.

"My brother, the one who passed, thought it would be funny when we were wee ones to catch spiders in the barn and put them in my bed." she reflected sadly. "I was about five or so when he started and no one ever really told him to stop, so it just kept happening and now everytime I see one-"

"-you're back in your five-year-old bed." he finished for her. She nodded and curled into him, suddenly smaller than she'd been in a very long time. "I'm sorry, Shelagh, I should've been more sensitive."

"You didn't know." she accepted his apology. "I really did try and hide it back home. They're just so much bigger here…besides, it's only fair that you laugh at me a little. I still think it's a bit funny that you're afraid of the dentist."

"I am not afraid of the-" he tried to defend himself.

"Marianne had Sister Evangelina and I take you kicking and screaming when you had a toothache in 1951 and even then, Sister Evangelina had to force you to take a sedative in the car because you wouldn't stop hyperventilating." she smiled at the memory.

"I forgot you were there that day…" he mumbled wryly.

"Don't worry, I won't tell anyone else." she teased. "Aside from me, Sister Julienne and Sister Monica Joan are the only ones left who even know it happened."

"Oh good, then my secret is safe." he replied sarcastically.

"As safe as mine is." Shelagh remarked pointedly.

"Touche." he chuckled. "Bed?"

"Gladly." Shelagh sighed. She was exhausted after the night they'd had. Patrick leaned over to turn off the light and Shelagh rolled slightly so he could cuddle up behind her.

He waited about two minutes before running his fingers like little spider legs across her stomach and she yelped. "Patrick!"

"Sorry, I couldn't resist." he laughed. "I promise, just sleep now."

"Oh no you don't." Shelagh replied, turning on the light. "I can't possibly go to sleep after that."

"Oh, what a shame." Patrick replied with a grin. "What would help you fall asleep, darling?"

"Patrick…" she rolled her eyes and for a moment, he thought she was angry again, but then she smiled and cast her gaze up to meet his. "Bite me, Patrick."

The eagerness in his eyes as she pulled him to her neck more than made up for his wandering spider fingers.

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42 down, 8 to go! Hope you enjoy!


	43. Walk Out that Door and we're Through

**Prompt 43:** "Walk out that door and we're through"

 **Summary:** Set during the same Season 3 AU as Prompt 11 ("I missed something, didn't I?"), it's seven months later! Also, if you haven't read that one, this one stands on its own, but they're cuter as a pair.

 **A/N:** Okay, we're in the home stretch of prompts and I hope I can work with them! I'm going to be honest, the reason most of these were left was because they really stumped me, but I hope I can do them justice and keep them realistically Turnadette. :) Thank you so much for still reading!

 **Disclaimer:** I own nothing.

* * *

As December of 1959 came around, Shelagh found herself firmly wishing she had never been a midwife. Experience had taught her that every expectant woman suffered from nerves before giving birth and that she shouldn't overthink her worries. Unfortunately, experience had also taught her about preeclampsia, and forceps, and hemorrhaging, and transverse pregnancies, and stillborn babies, and torn perineums, and so help her God, if Patrick tried to look at her ankles one more time while she was napping…

"Shelagh, darling, I'm home." Patrick's cheery voice rang out as he shook the snow from his coat.

Any other day, Shelagh would have been thrilled to see her husband, but today had been particularly trying between Timothy incessant excitement about their first Christmas as a family (she'd finally sent him over for biscuits with Jack) and her bloody Braxton Hicks contractions, and honestly, the last thing she needed or wanted was for Patrick to slip back into Doctor Mode when he saw she was stressed.

"In the sitting room, dear." she called out with all the energy she could muster behind her fake smile. He heard right through it.

"Is everything alright?" he asked, eyes brimming with concern as he sat beside her. "You look tired."

" _You look tired."_ Shelagh fought not to roll her eyes. Of course she looked tired. He would look tired too if he was carrying around a watermelon while his uterus tried to kill him.

"I'm fine. Baby's just being a bit more active today than usual." she replied as calmly as she could. Despite her exhaustion, her hand instinctively went to caress her stomach as she spoke about the baby and she felt some of her irritation lift as her fingers were met with a series of kicks. Patrick smiled and placed his hand next to hers.

"Are you bothering your mother?" he asked softly with a grin. "I know you must be getting impatient, but we're going to meet you soon, little one." Another series of flutters accompanied his statement and they laughed. "He agrees with me."

" _She_ ," Shelagh emphasized, "and I hope she's not too eager. There's still so much to do." she sighed.

"Shelagh, everything is in hand. Even Sister Evangelina said you were the most prepared mother she'd ever seen." he tried to reassure.

"That's not saying very much considering some of our patients, Patrick, and you know it." she sassed. "Besides, I - ooh!" Shelagh's hands flew to her back as every muscle in her abdomen seized. She fought through the pain and counted the seconds. Maybe it wasn't Braxton Hicks?

"How long have you been having pains?" Patrick asked, horrified.

"It's just Braxton Hicks. I'm fine." she promised, though she was no longer as confident. That last one had hurt far more than the others and lasted longer than she would've liked for anything other than the onset of labor.

"Shelagh, you're a midwife-" he started, but she turned to him, eyes blazing.

"So I should know what I'm talking about, Doctor Turner." she snapped. Any offense he might have taken was erased by the growing fear in her eyes. _Stubborn Scot_ he thought to himself.

"Stay here, I'm calling Nonnatus." he instructed. He leapt from the couch before she could stop him.

"Patrick, don't you dare touch that phone! I will not have you bothering them for nothing!" she propelled herself off the couch as she shouted and gasped as she felt her waters go. Patrick looked somewhat smugly from the puddle on their rug to her face.

"Not exactly nothing." he observed as he dialed the familiar number.

" _Nonnatus House, midwife speaking."_ Trixie's perky voice floated over the phone.

"Nurse Franklin, it's Doctor Turner." he heard Trixie hold her breath on the other end of the line and he knew she was hoping he was going to say exactly what he was about to say. "Shelagh's in labor."

" _We'll be there in two ticks, Doctor!"_ she exclaimed hurriedly before hanging up. It was only then that he realized she'd said _we_ not _I_ , but that was an issue for later. For now, Shelagh needed him and in spite of his momentary smugness, he could feel his own nervousness settling in fast. By the time he was off the phone, Shelagh was standing bent over the couch, one hand on the furniture, one hand on her back and breathing heavily.

"Darling, we have to get you upstairs, they're on their way." he spoke softly and tried to keep his voice from shaking. "Do you think you can move?" She nodded slowly and stood up. He went to support her, but she waved him away. "Shelagh, please, just let me help you."

"I can walk, Patrick. I'm not helpless." she argued as she shuffled her way to the stairs. He wanted to scream. He knew she was pushing him away because she was scared, but he couldn't just stand by and do nothing.

"I know that, sweetheart." he sighed. "But accepting help doesn't mean you're helpless."

"Patrick, please." she begged. "You're a father today, not a doctor. You can't be with me, please don't make this harder than it is." Her hands clenched his arm as another contraction set in and his heart broke. Sometimes, he wished he didn't know her as well as he did. She wanted him with her. She'd said as much so many times over the course of the last seven months. Now, though, reality had set in and she couldn't bear the idea of having him near her only to have him ripped away once the midwife arrived.

"Shelagh-"

"Midwives calling!" the call ran out from the door he'd forgotten to lock and anything he might've said got pushed aside, as Shelagh had predicted, by the arrival of Sister Julienne, Sister Evangelina, and Trixie. He might've known they'd all find a way to be there.

"Hello, sweetie, let's get you upstairs." Trixie embraced Shelagh and helped her up the stairs with no fighting, much to Patrick's despair and relief.

"Evening, Doctor Turner." Sister Julienne greeted excitedly.

"Evening, Sisters." he managed mostly without panic in his voice. "Her waters went just before I called, contractions are speeding up more than I think she'd like to admit."

"That's all well and good, Doctor," Sister Evangelina replied, "we'll take it from here."

"Sisters!" he called out, stopping them on the stairs even though he knew what the outcome would be. "Shelagh would never ask for herself, but she's mentioned so many times that she'd like me in the room and-"

"Absolutely not." Sister Evangelina cut him off. "You know the rules as well as she does. No men in the delivery room - even if her husband is a doctor. I think you've taken more than enough liberties as far as Shelagh is concerned." Patrick unwillingly flushed at the implication. They'd never done anything wrong, but he couldn't deny the twinge of discomfort knowing Shelagh's former Sisters were there to deliver the direct result of Shelagh breaking her vow of chastity.

"I'm sorry, Doctor Turner." Sister Julienne apologized sincerely. "But I'm afraid you'll have to wait outside."

Patrick nodded sadly, but followed them up the stairs. He could at least be just outside the room if she needed him.

Trixie had Shelagh settled in bed by the time Sister Evangelina and Sister Julienne came into the room and Shelagh was moving along quickly.

"There are three of you." Shelagh observed as her last contraction ebbed. "I didn't mean to cause such a fuss."

"It's no fuss at all, my dear." Sister Julienne assured. "It's been a slow night and the three of us wouldn't be anywhere else right now."

"Not for a moment." Sister Evangelina concurred, her eyes watering a bit.

"Patrick?" Shelagh asked softly.

"He's waiting just outside the door, Shelagh." Sister Julienne explained as she donned her gloves. Her heart sank a bit as she saw the hope dim in Shelagh's eyes, knowing the young woman wouldn't press the matter any further. "Though from the looks of it, it seems he won't be waiting long."

"She's at seven centimeters." Trixie chimed in with a smile. "Baby certainly wants to meet you!"

Shelagh was going to ask to just see Patrick for a moment, but her worst contraction yet set in and she cried out as Sister Julienne quickly took her hand.

"That's it, my dear. You're doing so well. Breathe through it."

"It hurts." Shelagh cried through clenched muscles.

"It'll all be done and dusted soon, young mother." Sister Evangelina encouraged as she kneeled next to Trixie at the foot of the bed. "I know it hurts, but just think of how soon you'll be holding your baby."

Shelagh nodded with new determination and the women smiled. She could do this.

Several hours and countless screams later, Patrick was at his wit's end. From what he could hear from the Sisters and Trixie, Shelagh's progress had slowed considerably for some reason and I he wasn't sure how much longer he could bear hearing her scream like that. He'd slammed his fist against the door at one point, at which Sister Evangelina had come out and told him to go downstairs if he couldn't keep it together. He was not about to go downstairs. What if she needed him? What if something went wrong? He wasn't about to let them call another doctor, not when he was willing to do anything for her.

Another contraction hit and her quieter groan shook him more than her screams. She was getting tired. He could hear the muffled sounds of the midwives trying to spur new energy into her, but it was clear she was fading. The contraction subsided and he could hear her crying. God, this was awful, how did he do this when Marianne was in labor? Another couple of minutes passed and the next contraction must've been the worst one yet because she screamed out,

"PATRICK!"

He was through the door and at her side before anyone could stop him.

"I'm so sorry, Shelagh, I'm right here." he promised, taking her hand in his left and smoothing the hair back from her face with his right.

"Doctor Turner, what did I say?" Sister Evangelina barked. "You don't belong in here yet."

"I'm not leaving her unless she tells me to, she needs me." he challenged.

Trixie and Sister Julienne, who had opted to stay out of the cross fires, turned their gazes to Shelagh's face and were thrilled to see a glimmer of a grin on her lips.

"Patrick, walk out that door and we're through." she panted, smiling for the first time in hours. Patrick beamed and helped her sit up a bit so she could lean against him. He turned to Sister Evangelina.

"Mother has spoken." he shrugged. He saw the moment she decided Shelagh was more important than her desire to knock him about the head.

"If you must be here, make yourself useful." she grumbled, returning to Trixie's side.

"Shelagh, we're finally at 10, you can start pushing!" Trixie announced happily. The entire room breathed a sigh of relief and Shelagh shut her eyes to gather her strength. She now had her husband on one side and her mother on the other, and soon she would hold her child in her arms. She could do this.

On the next contraction, she bore down and felt her body split in two as their child's head made its way into the world.

"Head is born, love." Patrick whispered excitedly into her ear. "You're almost there."

"You'll know when you're ready, Shelagh, just breathe." Sister Julienne counseled from her other side. She waited for the start of the next contraction and, with energy she didn't know she had, pushed her child fully into the room.

The sound of her newborn crying was the most beautiful sound she'd ever heard.

"You have a girl, Shelagh." Trixie cried. "A beautiful little girl. You did it!"

Sister Evangelina and Trixie helped each other cut the cord and bundle the newest Turner through their tears. Patrick and Shelagh held their arms out and Trixie put their daughter safely into their embrace.

"She's here, Patrick." Shelagh cried happily. "She's really here."

"And she's incredible, my love." he didn't bother to hide how much he was crying. "I'm so very proud of you." He turned to the highly emotional midwives who were as much a part of his wife's family as he was. "Thank you. For everything."

Sister Evangelina didn't even chide him.

He belonged to Shelagh at this moment as much as she belonged to him a year ago. There would be no more jabs at the doctor and his wife. Sister Bernadette was exactly where God intended her to be.

* * *

43 down, 7 to go! Hope you enjoy!


	44. I Think I Forgot How to Breathe

**Prompt 44:** "I think I forgot how to breathe"

 **Summary:** Shelagh has never been a very relaxed sort of person…set somewhere between 3x02 and 3x03

 **A/N:** I'm so sorry these are taking so long! Tour is being absolutely amazing, but exhausting, so I haven't had the brain power to write as much. I promise I am still working on these, though. :)

 **Disclaimer:** I own nothing.

* * *

"Do you think I'm doing something wrong?" Shelagh asked as her breath returned to its normal rhythm. Patrick looked down at her and his brow furrowed in concern. He knew she was still somewhat reserved as far as their lovemaking was concerned, but by the time their sweat was cooling and they lay bundled up in each other's arms, her eyes would always meet his for any pillow talk they were awake enough to have. Tonight, though, his gaze was only met with the soft, tangled top of her head. He ran his fingers happily through her mussed curls.

"Darling, I can't imagine how you could do anything more right." he teased gently, hoping it would coax an embarrassed smile from her. Instead, she rolled off of his chest and walked quickly across the room for her dressing gown. He watched as she wrapped herself in the flowery print he'd gotten her as a honeymoon present. Something must be truly troubling her; he'd noticed that Shelagh always wrapped herself in something to protect herself for hard conversations. Sometimes, it was his arms, sometimes, a blanket, but she was consistent. Her fingers fidgeted and she looked down at her hands as they rubbed small circles on her stomach... _oh._

"It can't be you, you've had Timothy." she elaborated quietly. "Patrick, we've been trying for so long. What if it's me? What if something is wrong or I'm doing something wrong?"

"Shelagh, love, it's only been a few months." he tried gently. "You know as well as I do that it doesn't always happen immediately."

"And you know as well as I do that it often happens overnight." she sighed. He let a small smirk break the seriousness of the conversation.

"Well, I think in the long run, it _always_ happens overnight, darling." he grinned and she shook her head with a smile, his warm, humorous heart drawing her back to bed. He opened his arms and she crawled back into them, but stayed atop the blankets. She closed her eyes and let the feel of his warm chest lull her into relaxation. She didn't want to taint this part of their lives with her constant anxiety, but lately, she felt like she couldn't do anything else.

It wasn't that she wasn't happy. In fact, looking back on her life, Shelagh felt very confident saying that the past few months with Patrick and Timothy had been the happiest she'd ever been. That said, she wanted a baby. No, more than that, she wanted _Patrick's_ baby. She'd given up everything she'd ever known for the gifts of marriage and motherhood and now she felt more pressured than ever to get pregnant. There were so many little knowing comments floating around her now: 'Enjoy those new clothes while you still can', 'At least you're more prepared than any other mother in Poplar', 'I always thought it was such a shame Timothy didn't have a sibling', and her favorite, 'You two spend so much time around babes, it's a miracle you don't have five already'. She hadn't mentioned any of it to Patrick, after all, no one meant any harm, but she couldn't deny that combined with her innate desire for children, the comments were taking their toll.

"I just want to make you happy." Shelagh whispered into his skin, his chest hair tickling her lips as she spoke.

"You make me ecstatic." said Patrick. He paused for a moment and pondered. "You know, there is one school of thought that stress can contribute to problems in conceiving."

"Really?" Shelagh pressed herself onto her side and looked up at him, eyes blazing with the interest of a nurse and a hopeful mother.

"Mmmhmm." he nodded. "It's not been proven, but I suppose it makes sense. Stress and anxiety can have great effects on the body in other ways, why not pregnancy?" Shelagh deflated a bit.

"Then I fear I'm going to have a very hard time getting pregnant." she sighed. Patrick sat them both up so he could look at her properly.

"Shelagh, may I ask why you are so worried?"

Had it been anyone else, she would have been irritated and assumed that they were dismissing her concerns, but Patrick's questioning was always sincere. He knew she was hurting he wanted to fix it, and he knew the only way of doing that was to diagnose the problem. It was simply his nature and she loved him for it.

"I don't know, exactly." she admitted. "I suppose I've never been a very relaxed sort of person. I think...I just worry a lot; about getting pregnant, about _not_ getting pregnant, about what people will think if I do or don't, about how Timothy would feel about it, about...well, many things."

"Darling, why didn't you tell me you were so concerned?" he asked.

"I didn't want to worry you." she shrugged, her restless fingers now playing with his. "And I didn't want you to think I was always distracted while we...you know…" Patrick smiled.

"Shelagh, if you can have sex with me, I think you can say the word." he teased, loving the blush that crept all the way up to her eyes. "And as far as you being distracted goes, that's something you can always talk to me about. You're right, I don't want you to be distracted, but I can't help you with that unless you tell me about it."

"I suppose that's true." she admitted. The gentle taps of her fingers had become soft caresses against the back of his hand.

"Do you know what I think?" he asked, letting the hand she wasn't holding captive trace a line up to the tie of her dressing gown. She shook her head slowly and he groaned as he watched her eyes glaze over in anticipation. "I think you need to stop thinking so much."

Shelagh barely had time to agree with him before his lips claimed hers and he pushed her backwards into the mattress.

Later on, she collapsed helplessly on top of him in a pile of sated limbs. He didn't have the energy to move her, so he simply accepted that she would be his blanket for the night (since all the others had made their way onto the floor in the frantic tussle of their last bout) and traced small circles on her back.

"Did you forget about baby?" he whispered into her hair.

"Patrick, I think I forgot how to breathe." she admitted, breathlessly.

He beamed and secured his arms further around her. Their baby would come in time.

* * *

44 down, 6 to go! Hope you enjoy!


	45. You're Seriously Like a Man-Child

**Prompt 45:** "You're seriously like a man-child."

 **Summary:** Modern AU set in the time frame of early Season 2. A bit of fluff because after Sunday, we deserve it.

 **A/N:** Thank you, thank you, thank you for still being with me! I can't believe after this one, we're in the final 5! I'm going to be sad to see this series go, but I'm so excited for the feeling of completion and for new writings to come.

 **Disclaimer:** I own nothing.

* * *

Nurse Shelagh Mannion counted the steps towards the break room as her heart started racing in anticipation. Five more steps. She could taste the sweet concoction of freedom and a fresh cup of tea on her tongue for the first time all day. Between her own patients and covering for Nurse Noakes while she was on her honeymoon, she'd been on her feet since 5am.

" _While Chummy is having her feet massaged on some beachside somewhere…"_ she thought somewhat bitterly before shaking off the irritation she knew would disappear with just a few moments of quiet.

Three more steps.

She was practically drooling at the thought of sitting down.

One more step.

Her sore fingers brushed the door handle.

"Oh, Shelagh, there you are!"

Any other woman with even a fraction less patience than her would have strangled Trixie Franklin. As it was, Shelagh was a paradigm of professionalism and so she gritted her teeth and reluctantly pulled her hand from the door to paradise.

"Yes, Nurse Franklin?" she asked, her jaw tight. The younger nurse seemed to get the message, but Shelagh was the senior midwife on duty that day and there wasn't anyone else to go to.

"I'm sorry to bother you, I know it's been a hellish day, but could you come take a look at Mrs. McGinnis?" Trixie asked hurriedly, but not without a sincerely apologetic tone. "Baby's being a bit stubborn and mother isn't exactly cooperating…" Shelagh could have cried. None of them wanted to be on call with Mrs. McGinnis. The woman was insufferable and never wanted to listen to a word they said during her pregnancy, so Shelagh was sure she was being a right peach during labor.

"Of course." Shelagh sighed.

"Thank you." Trixie said, relieved. "I would've asked Doctor Turner, but he left to pick up Timothy from school an hour ago and he still isn't back."

"Still?" Shelagh asked incredulously. Trixie shrugged. Making a mental note to give Patrick a stern talking-to the next time she saw him, Shelagh stomped off towards Mrs. McGinnis' room with Trixie following her, equally amused and terrified.

It was seven hours of blood, sweat, tears, and screaming from Mrs. McGinnis later (most of which the nurses did as well) when Shelagh realized today was the second day in a row she'd thought of Doctor Turner as Patrick. It wasn't that his name was forbidden to her - after all, they'd been colleagues for ten years and friends for most of that time - it was just that she never thought of him that way. She rarely saw 'Patrick'. Most of the time that they were in the same room, even casually, it was in the context of the hospital. Even after she'd become friends with Marianne, Shelagh still referred to them both as Dr. and Mrs. Turner. They'd both correct her and then have a good laugh about it, but Shelagh was a creature of habit and so that was what she called them.

" _So, when did he become Patrick?"_ she wondered to herself.

She supposed she had been spending more time with him. Not intentionally, of course, but Timothy had come to see her as a bit of a surrogate mother in the time since Marianne passed and she was a sucker for the youngest Turner. If spending time with him meant incidentally spending time with his father, that wasn't her fault, right?

Shaking her head away from the dangerous thought trail she was headed down, Shelagh finished washing up and glanced at the clock. Ironically, she was due for a break again and she sighed wistfully at the idea of sitting down. At this point, she'd resigned herself to her schedule until Chummy returned. She wasn't thrilled about it, but at the end of the day, nothing made her happier than nursing and she needed to remind herself of that every once in a while.

With renewed conviction, Shelagh set off for the break room, determined to grab her cup of tea before going to check in on Nurse Miller and her patient. Miraculously, she made it all the way there and the room was blissfully empty. Cradling her cup of tea, Shelagh was sure there was no more heavenly feeling in the entire world. The warmth eased her sore hands and the steam bathed her face and relaxed away the stresses of the day. Her pocket buzzed and she realized she hadn't checked her phone since she Trixie grabbed her.

She pulled it out to 47 unread messages from Dr. P. Turner.

" _47!"_ Her heart seized. What if something was wrong with Timothy? What if something was wrong with him and he needed her to pick up Timothy and that's why he was gone so long and now Timothy was waiting outside his school cold and alone and hungry for hours?

Panicking and not reading the messages, she nearly screamed into her phone.

"Call Dr. P. Turner!" Her phone obediently dialed and she felt her anxiety rising with every ring. "Pick up, pick up, pick up." she muttered impatiently. She swore as she heard the familiar 'you've reached Pat-Doctor Turner, sorry, can't get to the phone just now'. Instinct had her running to his office. He was probably not there, but she needed to try and if nothing else, hunting him and Timothy down would distract her from thinking about why the Turners were starting to occupy most of her daily thoughts.

She rounded the corner to his office and sighed in relief at the light coming from the cracked-open door. Pushing the door open all the way, she felt relief turn into utter annoyance mixed with an infuriating sense of adoration.

Father and son were fast asleep on Patrick's horrible yellow office couch, both snoring to beat the band. The elder Turner's phone lay on the floor, close to Timothy's hand, which Shelagh suspected was the actual culprit behind the text barrage. Rolling her eyes, she crossed to the closet in search of the blankets she knew he kept in case he had to sleep at work. She laughed when she pulled out the stack. Five felt, superhero blankets looked back at her and she had a strong suspicion they weren't all Timothy's doing.

"You're seriously like a man-child, sometimes, Patrick Turner." she chided with a smile as she draped a spiderman blanket over both of them. A new, but becoming-familiar sensation tugged at her heart as Timothy's hand clutched at the fabric and Patrick turned and nuzzled sleepily into his son's head. She would wake them in an hour when Patrick's night shift started and then she would take Timothy home.

She would also ignore the fact that a week ago, she would've had no tolerance for Patrick not being on top of his own schedule when they were so short staffed and now, she was warmly covering him with a child's blanket.

She didn't have time to analyze those feelings or to see where they might lead. Besides, in what world would Patrick Turner ever be into her?

* * *

45 down, and just 5 to go! Hope you enjoy!


	46. I Need Some Time

**Prompt 46:** "I need some time"

 **Summary:** A 'how Nonnatus found out' set end of season 2 before the Christmas special.

 **Disclaimer:** I own nothing.

* * *

" _Please will you marry my dad?"_

The words washed warmly through her blood and in that moment as the world fell into place, Shelagh knew he didn't even need her to say yes. She wasn't sure she could have anyway. The reality of the man she loved standing before her with an engagement ring and an unconditionally loving smile had robbed her of her words, and very nearly her breath. Instead, she held out her hand and his eyes lit up even further as he gently placed the simple ring on her finger and brought her hand to his lips - the action made all the sweeter by the relief that it was no longer forbidden.

Thought he looked as flustered as she did, Patrick recovered the power of speech first.

"I love you, Shelagh." he whispered. It wasn't the first time he'd said it, but in the aftermath of their new engagement, it sounded much freer to her; as though he were no longer scared to say the words.

"Oh, Patrick," she took a deep breath, "I love you too. So very much." Any fear she'd felt at saying the phrase back to him evaporated and instead, the admission filled her with such a sense of purpose. He pulled her gently to him and they lost track of how long they stood in each other's arms in the kitchen where everything had begun to snowball. Standing in Patrick's arms, Shelagh realized she'd never felt this safe before in her life, and it nawed at her a bit. She was blissfully happy and she would never regret her choice to leave the order, but it sat strangely with her that the place she happily and willingly called home for over a decade had never made her feel as secure as she did in that moment.

"It's so different from the last time we stood here." Patrick remarked into her hair. "I can't believe we don't have to hide this anymore."

Shelagh tensed a bit against her will and Patrick pulled back in concern.

"Shelagh, is everything alright?" He was incredibly worried. He knew he shouldn't be so overly sensitive, but he never dreamed they'd be standing there and he still hadn't shaken the fear that one wrong move would take her away from him.

"Everything is wonderful, Patrick." she replied sincerely. "I'm just...I don't think I'm ready for everyone to know just yet...about us." She spoke hesitatingly, in fear of offending him, but he smiled and sighed in relief.

"Darling, that's alright." he assured. "It's a lot to get used to for me, I can't even imagine how overwhelming it must be for you." Shelagh beamed and hugged him back to her.

"Do you think," she paused, "that is, would you mind terribly if I wore my ring about my neck for now?" Her heart broke as his face fell a bit, but she just wasn't ready for all the questions. She loved him, she would marry him that day if he asked her, but people were already accosting her with their curiosity and she didn't think she was ready to handle the gossip about their engagement on top of the gossip about her leaving Nonnatus. "I love you so much, Patrick, it's just that...everyone is already staring at me and I think I need some time before I give them more to stare at."

Patrick moved his hand up to caress her cheek and she gratefully leaned into his touch.

"Of course," he said earnestly. "I understand." he paused for a moment. "You are accepting my proposal, though, right?" he asked, lovingly, but very nervously.

"Well, it wasn't really your proposal," she replied with a grin, "but you can tell Timothy that yes, I will marry his dad."

"Cheeky, Miss Manion." Patrick remarked, surprised. "I can see between the two of you, I'm going to be up against quite the gang."

Not quite ready for the banter she seemed to have stumbled into, Shelagh blushed and tucked her head back into his chest.

"Not to worry, darling, I can't wait." he whispered lovingly.

* * *

The next few days seemed to drag on agonizingly for both of them. They were finally free to be together, but since they'd agreed not to say anything until Shelagh was ready, they found themselves struggling to so much as be in the same room when they were around other people. They'd already been through months of having to keep their love a secret because it couldn't be shared and now, somehow, it was worse because it _wouldn't_ be shared.

It wasn't that Shelagh was embarrassed (despite Patrick's anxiety) or that she felt they were doing anything wrong (despite her own misgivings in the middle of the night), it was simply that telling people would give their relationship over to all of Poplar and that terrified her. She loved every second she spent with Patrick and Timothy, but it was just theirs. The second anyone else was allowed into her new bubble of life, it would shatter. People would have questions, she would have to tell the Sisters and the nurses, and everyone would want to poke and prod the way they would with any other high profile couple. She couldn't handle that.

She could barely handle bringing Timothy to the end of clinic, how on earth could she be expected to handle announcing her engagement to his father?

"Auntie Shelagh, are you alright?" Shelagh broke out of her worried inner monologue to look down at the boy she now considered a son in every way. She wondered if Timothy knew how similar he was to Patrick when he looked at her in concern like that.

"I'm fine, Timothy." she answered. "It's just been a little while since I've seen everyone from Nonnatus House."

"Oh." Timothy pondered. "Is that why you washed the dishes twice the other night? When Nurse Lee came by for dad?"

Shelagh grimaced inside. The boy really was too smart for his own good. Yes, perhaps she had been hiding from Jenny, but she didn't think she'd been that obvious.

"No," she forced a laugh, "it just takes twice the effort to clean up after your father."

Timothy grinned conspiratorially and nodded. He liked having Auntie Shelagh on his side, no matter what his dad thought.

The last of the patients was leaving as Shelagh and Timothy walked inside and despite her nerves, Shelagh found herself missing the bustle of clinic days. Perhaps one day in the very distant future, she could be a part of them again? That was a thought for much later on.

"Shelagh, my dear, it's so wonderful to see you." Sister Julienne noticed as soon as Shelagh entered and hurried over to her. She missed her surrogate daughter more than she could say, though she respected and understood why she was keeping her distance for the time being.

"Hello, Sister Julienne." Shelagh greeted shyly. "I'm just dropping Timothy off..I..um..I happened to be walking by his school when it let out."

"No you-" Timothy tried, but Shelagh quickly stopped him.

"I believe your father is in the kitchen, Timothy."

Timothy looked between Shelagh and Sister Julienne in confusion, but eventually made his way over towards the kitchen. Auntie Shelagh was acting strangely, but Nonnatuns in a kitchen usually ended in sweets for him and he was alright with that.

"I do wish you'd come around more often." Sister Julienne remarked when Timothy had left. "We all miss you terribly."

"I'm sure that's not true." Shelagh replied sadly, knowing Sister Evangelina was probably still furious with her. "At any rate, you're all so busy, I'm sure you wouldn't have time."

"We would make time for you, Shelagh." Sister Julienne insisted.

Shelagh wanted so badly to tell Sister Julienne everything, but she couldn't. She just couldn't.

"That's very kind of you, but I really should be going." Shelagh rattled off before turning to leave so she couldn't see the heartbreak on the older woman's face.

"Auntie Shelagh!" Timothy hollered as he ran after her before either Patrick or Shelagh could stop him. Every single nurse and nun stopped what they were doing at his word choice.

"Auntie?" Sister Julienne asked in curiosity as Timothy nearly knocked Shelagh over.

"Auntie Shelagh, are you cooking dinner again tonight? Dad says he has to go back to the surgery, but he probably won't if you come over and your cooking is so much better than his!" Timothy asked eagerly, oblivious to how quickly Shelagh was paleing.

"Tim...I…" she sputtered, looking hopelessly around her for any sort of help. Unfortunately, Patrick came after his son at that moment and he was not the help she wanted at all.

"Timothy, I wasn't finished talking, you can't just run off like that." Patrick chided, walking over to them.

"But you made a decision without asking Auntie Shelagh and you said we weren't supposed to do that anymore." Timothy pointed out. Patrick cursed inwardly. The one time his son had chosen to listen to him…

"Timothy, this isn't the place for this." Patrick warned, trying to move him and Shelagh out the door.

"And might I ask what exactly _this_ is?" Sister Evangelina asked, fire blazing in her eyes. Patrick and Shelagh looked at each other and then turned to the many pairs of curious eyes. Sister Evangelina had only asked what all of them had been thinking, though it seemed Trixie and Sister Julienne had already solved the puzzle based on their smiles.

Seeing the love from her mentor's eyes beaming down at her gave Shelagh strength and she nodded at Patrick.

"It's alright." she whispered. Patrick reached out and took her hand, ignoring the gasps from several others in the room.

"Shelagh and I are engaged to be married." Patrick stated simply. Shelagh beamed. Hearing it outloud was surprisingly riveting.

"I beg your pardon?" Sister Evangelina asked, shocked.

"Doctor Turner asked me to marry him and I said yes." Shelagh repeated her fiance as she squeezed his hand and Timothy joined them.

"Auntie Shelagh's going to be my new mum!" he exclaimed excitedly before he realized, "Oh, I wasn't supposed to say anything, was I?" he asked sheepishly, looking towards Patrick and Shelagh.

"Well, I'm thrilled you did, or else we never would've gotten to congratulate you." Trixie spoke warmly, hurrying forward to wrap Shelagh up in a loving hug.

"You're happy for us?" Shelagh asked hopefully.

"Of course we are, silly!" Trixie gushed. " _All_ of us." she gave a pointed look towards Sister Evangelina who huffed, but let a small smile escape her lips.

"Sister Julienne?" Shelagh asked softly, turning to the nun. "Are you-"

"I couldn't be happier for you both." she assured honestly. "You've both been so lost for so long. It couldn't be more clear or more right for you to find each other."

Shelagh felt tears brimming in her eyes. She still didn't feel fully reconciled, but they accepted her marriage and for the moment, that meant everything. She turned happily to Patrick.

"I think it's time you put this in its proper place." she said, taking off her necklace and handing it to him.

Patrick beamed with pride as he took the small diamond ring off the necklace chain and slid it onto Shelagh's finger for the second time.

"It must be something about this building." he teased.

"Must be." Shelagh smiled brightly back at him.

* * *

46 down, ONLY FOUR TO GO! Hope you enjoy!


	47. You Can't Keep Pretending

**Prompt 47:** "You can't keep pretending it didn't happen, because guess what? It did!"

 **Summary:** Patrick and Shelagh find out about Tim's new curiosity.

 **A/N:** Per an earlier tumblr convo, here we are! This turned into less of a funny and more of a serious teen-sex talk, but I think that's really important, so here we go.

 **Disclaimer:** I own nothing.

* * *

The first time Tim offered to help out at the surgery during half term, Patrick and Shelagh had been relieved. The influx of patients from the neighboring clinic was still running everyone at Nonnatus ragged and while the idea of finding a replacement for Nurse Gilbert so soon was a bit sickening, they couldn't deny that they desperately needed the help. Besides, Tim was no stranger to the inner workings of the medical side of Poplar and since they'd found a suitable babysitter for the time being (a very kind, intelligent young woman in Tim's class named Paulette), Tim wasn't needed at home to watch Angela and Teddy. They'd originally thought he'd be thrilled with the freedom, especially given his recent behavior, but all he wanted to do was come to the surgery.

When Tim offered to help again the next day, they were surprised, but still so overwhelmed that they didn't question his motives and happily packed him in the car with them in the morning, teenage grumpiness and all.

The third day, they were slightly suspicious, especially given how frustrated Tim had been with them lately, but he was extremely useful and he didn't take out his moodiness on the rest of the staff, so they let him be and accepted the help.

The fourth day, Shelagh was convinced something must be wrong and she confronted him over breakfast.

"Timothy?" she asked quietly, eyes scoping the room for Patrick in case Tim actually did want to talk. That would never happen with his father around these days. "Is everything alright?"

"Everyfings finnne." he replied with a mouth full of toast as he nodded.

"Don't talk with your mouth full, please, you don't want to encourage Angela." she chided on instinct, choosing to ignore the eye roll that was looking more and more like Patrick's with every passing day. She paused for a moment, but decided she needed to know. "Tim, you know your father and I love having you help at the surgery…"

She trailed off, unsure of how to phrase her question and hoping Tim would finish her sentence for her. As expected, he instead just stared at her, waiting for the 'but' of criticism he thought was coming.

"You've never wanted to spend your half term working with us before, and I suppose I just wanted to make sure nothing was wrong?" Shelagh asked affectionately.

"Why does something have to be wrong for me to work at the surgery?" Tim asked, annoyed. "I've done it loads of times."

"Yes, but normally at your father's insistence." she countered. "You've never offered before and I didn't know if perhaps something else was going on that you were trying to avoid?"

"There's nothing going on." Tim grumbled, pushing his plate away. "You told me that dad was doing too much and that I needed to respect that, so I thought I would offer to help. Now you're angry because I'm doing what you asked?"

"I'm not angry, Tim." Shelagh took a deep breath, gathering her patience. "And you don't need to raise your voice-"

"-around Angela and Teddy. I _know._ " Tim gestured dramatically to his younger siblings. "You know I am capable of hearing."

"Timothy..." Shelagh warned, her voice sharper than she wanted, but her nerves were quickly fraying.

"Why don't I just stay home, then, mum?" Timothy asked sarcastically. "Why don't I stay and sit in my room so you and dad don't have to worry about me."

"Tim, that's not what I meant, and Paulette is going to be here, so you don't have to-" Shelagh tried to reason, but he was already headed upstairs.

"I'll see you later." he shouted before slamming the door. Shelagh groaned and looked down at Angela, who was now covered in milk having been distracted from her cereal by the argument. Shelagh turned her eyes skyward; it was not going to be a good day.

It wasn't a good day.

The argument with Tim had left Shelagh in a terrible mood that wasn't helped at all by Patrick trying to help her and muddling the new patient files and Nurse Crane's back going out again. By the time they closed the surgery, Shelagh was exhausted and she couldn't decide whether she was happy or not that Patrick wasn't on call that evening. On the one hand, she wanted him there to help her and she knew when the stress broke later, she would need him besides her. On the other hand, he'd been trying to make up for messing up the files all day by taking on other tasks for her that meant he was being slower at his actual job and while she knew he meant well, she was going to throttle him.

"Shelagh, why don't you go lie down for a bit?" he suggested as they approached the front door. "I can have dinner ready in no time."

"No, you can't, and you know that." she sighed. "Just go and see Paulette out and I'll start dinner."

"Darling, you've had a terrible day. I truly-"

"Patrick, please." Shelagh cut him off harshly and immediately took a breath and took her hand off the door handle to turn towards him. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't be taking this out on you." She apologized and he took her free hand in his.

"I'm sorry. I should have let you handle everything today instead of getting in the way." he apologized. "I just don't like seeing you upset. You never did tell me what happened this morning." Shelagh shook her head.

"It doesn't matter. Tim was...simply having a bit of a morning." she considered elaborating at his raised eyebrow, but she was too tired. "I'm sure it's nothing, Patrick. Just a misunderstanding."

"Yes, we seem to be having a lot of those with him lately…" Patrick grumbled. "Suddenly, university can't come soon enough." he teased. Shelagh smiled for the first time in hours.

"You don't mean that and you know it." she admonished. "Come on, it's far too quiet in there; I don't trust it."

Patrick grinned and opened the door for her, thrilled to see her smiling after all his efforts.

Their smiles quickly dropped when the reached the sitting room and saw Tim and Paulette entangled on the couch.

"Timothy!" They both shouted simultaneously. The two teens leapt apart and Shelagh and Patrick watched with dropped jaws as both of them adjust their shirts. It did not go unnoticed that both Tim and Paulette had to do up several buttons.

"Mrs. Turner, I'm so sorry." Paulette stuttered.

"Where are Angela and Teddy?" Shelagh asked, eyes still darting between her son and her babysitter.

"They're fine, mum." Tim assured, embarrassed. "Teddy's asleep and Angela's playing in her room. We didn't abandon them…"

"You don't get to give cheek right now, Timothy." Patrick snapped. "Paulette, grab your things and head home."

"Yes, Dr. Turner." Paulette replied quietly as she moved quickly for her bag.

"Wait." Patrick called out. He reached into his pocket for her wages. "I'm assuming and hoping that the two of you weren't...otherwise engaged...all day." He handed her the money and Paulette thanked him and Shelagh profusely before running out the door. He'd have to discuss whether or not the young woman was returning later on with Shelagh, but for now, he had bigger problems.

"Tim, go upstairs and fetch your sister for dinner. We'll talk about this afterwards."

"Dad, I-" Tim tried to defend himself as he felt Patrick's disappointment.

"Now, Tim. Your mother and I have had a very long day and I don't think she wants to have this conversation before we've eaten."

Tim groaned and stomped his way upstairs to get Angela while Patrick headed to the kitchen. Shelagh had left Teddy sleeping and was movingly rather aggressively around her cabinets.

"Did Tim just go upstairs?" she asked in disbelief.

"Yes." Patrick sighed.

"And you let him?" Shelagh asked, shocked.

"I told him to." Patrick countered.

"Patrick, we can't just send him to his room anymore. We know it doesn't work." Shelagh nearly shouted in frustration. "What if we'd gotten home an hour later? What if things had gotten out of hand? Do you really want to have a son and a grandson less than a year apart? You can't assume he'll do the right thing all the time just because you tell him to and you can't keep pretending it didn't happen, because guess what? It did!"

"Shelagh, stop!" Patrick put his hands on her shoulders and forced her to stand still and look at him. "I sent him upstairs because we all need a moment before we have this conversation - a conversation I assumed you wanted to be there for." Shelagh's breathing slowed and Patrick felt himself calm with her. "I don't approve of what we walked home to and you know that, but...Shelagh, he's a 16-year-old boy. Maybe we shouldn't have left him home alone with a 16-year-old girl?"

"He wasn't alone, Patrick. He was supposed to watching Angela and Teddy." she corrected before pausing. "But, yes, we shouldn't have."

"Finish up dinner and I'll see to Teddy. It's going to be a long night." he sighed with a kiss to her cheek.

"Yes it is." Shelagh agreed, her heart twisting at the sight of Patrick with their youngest son knowing in another 16 years she might be back in this exact situation.

They were sure nothing could be as awkward as that dinner, but the three eldest Turners discovered they were very wrong as they sat back down at the table after the little ones were asleep. Patrick, Shelagh, and Tim started at each other in silence for several moments until Shelagh finally started talking, their morning conversation suddenly making a bit of sense.

"Tim, have you been going to the surgery to avoid Paulette?" Shelagh asked bluntly. Patrick and Tim looked at her in confusion. Whatever she was going to ask, they didn't expect it to the be that.

Tim shifted awkwardly in his seat, avoiding eye contact with his parents as he formulated his answer. Shelagh smiled inside. No one had yelled and her question wasn't met with a sassy retort and an eye roll.

"It wasn't planned." Tim started quietly. "I mean, today, I mean…"

"These things are never planned." said Patrick. "Tim, what would have happened if your mother and I hadn't come home when we did?"

"Dad!" Tim exclaimed, going red in the face.

"It's a fair question, Timothy dearest." Shelagh placated. Tim deflated a bit. His mum hadn't called him Timothy dearest in so long and while a part of him hated it, a part of him knew she was using it now because she was truly worried. "You've been the son of a doctor and a midwife for some time and you've grown up in and around Nonnatus." she paused. "I believe it is safe to say that you are more...knowledgeable...that most people your age about certain topics?" Shelagh looked at Tim for confirmation, but he kept his head down.

"I think what your mother is trying to ask, Tim, is why you would do something like that when you know the consequences better than most people?" Patrick asked. Shelagh nodded and they waited for Tim to answer.

"We didn't do anything." Tim tried, but he knew the argument was lame. Whether or not he wanted to admit it to his parents, he wasn't entirely sure how far things would have gone if they hadn't come home, or even how far he wanted them to go. He didn't realize until he'd started kissing Paulette that 'mushy stuff' - as he'd called it for so many years - wasn't always a clear process. He was so overwhelmed at the time that he wasn't even sure if he would have remembered to use protection had it gone that far and it scared him. "I don't know, okay! I don't know what would have happened if you hadn't come home." he admitted.

"Why would you even start something like that when you were watching your brother and sister?" Patrick asked.

"I told you, we didn't mean to start anything!" Tim snapped.

"Tim…" Patrick warned and Tim simmered down.

"Itookthemfromthesupplyclosetyesterday." Tim murmured into his hand.

"Sorry?" Shelagh asked.

"I took them from the supply closet yesterday." Tim said quietly, but clearly. His hand fished around in his pocket and he reluctantly handed over the small handful of rubbers he'd snatched.

"You just said you didn't plan any of this." Patrick pointed out, anger growing. "You didn't mean for any of this to happen, but you took condoms from the closet?!" he paused, realizing. "Is that why you've been so insistent on coming to the surgery?"

"No!" Tim shouted. "I swear, I really did want to help out, but yesterday...Nurse Dyer asked me to fetch another heat lamp and when I went in the closet I saw...I don't know why I took them, I was just curious."

"Curious about what would happen if you spend today with Paulette?" Patrick asked indignantly.

"Patrick." Shelagh put her hand on his arm. He sighed and rubbed the stress from his forehead. How had she suddenly become the calm one?

"I'm sorry." Tim apologized earnestly.

"I know." Shelagh sighed. "But Tim, you know better than that, and you certainly know better than that when we're trusting you and Paulette with Angela and Teddy."

Tim melted under Shelagh's disapproving gaze. He could fight with his father, but there was something unnerving about upsetting his mum that he still couldn't shake at 16.

"Now," Shelagh continued, "I'm going to take these back to the surgery tomorrow and you are going to spend the rest of your half term helping me with paperwork, do you understand?"

"Yes, mum." Tim's acceptance came with a bit of an eye roll, but it all could have been much worse, so they let it go and watched as their eldest son slunk up to bed.

Patrick sighed and put his face into his hands.

"He took condoms." Patrick muttered. "Our son stole condoms from our own surgery and then we caught him on the couch with a girl."

"At least we caught them." Shelagh offered, though she knew it was no comfort to either of them. "We're going to need a new sitter."

"I know." Patrick sat up. "Preferably one who's at least 60…" he looked over at Shelagh, who seemed to be deep in thought, her fingers twirling the small package. "Shelagh?"

"Do you think we should keep these?" she asked.

"For who?" he asked, confused.

"For us." she answered quietly, but firmly. "I know we never talked about it."

Patrick thought hard as he felt Shelagh's nervous energy growing.

"We don't have to, if you don't want-" she spoke quickly, but he kissed her to stop the rambling he knew was coming.

"Shelagh, it isn't a question of just what I want." he promised. "We've never had to think about it since…" he trailed off, he didn't need to finish the heartbreaking sentence. "Do you want more children?"

"Do you?" she asked in return. He looked at her pointedly. "I don't even know if it would happen again, but...I don't know if it would be a good idea, Patrick."

"May I ask why? I'm not agreeing or disagreeing." he encouraged.

"Well for a start, neither of us are getting any younger," she ignored the quip she knew was on his lips, "and truthfully, we're so busy now, I don't know how we would handle a fourth."

"We would find a way, Shelagh, you know we would." he assured her, though there was another question he had to ask. "Shelagh, are you alright with using birth control? I know you fully support it for other women, but for you?"

"I think so." she replied. "Years ago, I probably wouldn't have been, but I've changed so much since then and, well," she blushed, "we've been together many times with no expectation of children."

He grinned happily.

"Well, in that case, I think we ought to test these out." he teased, coaxing her up from the table and towards the master bedroom. "It's not entirely sanitary to put them back in the closet and it would be a shame to have them go to waste."

"An absolute shame." Shelagh agreed as she happily followed her husband.

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47 down, 3 to go!


	48. I'm Too Sober for This

**Prompt 48:** "I'm too sober for this"

 **Summary:** Future AU in which Tim enlists in the RAMC (Royal Army Medical Corps) in 1970 and goes to Belfast to serve as an Army Medic for Operation Banner.

 **A/N:** I'm so sorry for this one because it's angst everywhere. Oops. This wasn't the original idea for this prompt, but it crept up on me and kept yelling at me, so I decided to listen to it and write it down. On the bright side, the last two prompts will be one smutty and one fluffy, so this is the last bit of heartbreak before we hit the finish line!

 **Disclaimer:** I own nothing.

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"Tim, you're not going and that's final!" Patrick hollered as panic began to fill his veins.

"I'm 23 years old, dad. I didn't come for your permission!" Tim shouted back, the anger at his father's hypocrisy no longer hidden in any way.

"Timothy, please-" Shelagh tried to calm her boys, but they were too far gone and she knew it was only a matter of moments before one of them said something the other couldn't forgive.

"Oh, of course, you take his side!" Timothy spat at her. "I shouldn't have even come. I should've just gone with Shaylee last month. I knew you wouldn't understand!"

"Don't you dare speak to your mother like that!" Patrick warned, eyes blazing with fear and fury like he'd never felt towards his son before. "You have no idea what a war zone is like, Timothy, and I will not have you throwing on a uniform for a cause that has nothing to do with you and a girl you haven't seen in weeks."

"I told you I wanted to enlist in the medical corps six months ago and you said you were proud, was that all just lies?" Tim asked.

"That was before I realized you were stupid enough to follow your hormones to bloody Ireland!" Patrick yelled. Tim stood frozen and Shelagh felt her heart drop.

"I'm going to serve in Belfast and be with Shaylee and her family." Tim spoke coldly and calmly. "I'll be back in England when I'm no longer needed." Tim grabbed his bag roughly off the floor and moved towards the door. He stopped with his hand on the handle and turned to face his parents. Patrick was too angry to see it, but Shelagh saw the sadness and regret in his eyes. "And just so you know, she's not some girl I haven't seen in weeks," he paused, looking at Shelagh because he couldn't bear to look at his dad, "she's my fiance who's asked for my help."

Tim left the normally-cheerful house without saying goodbye, left notes for his brother and sister on the step, and drove away.

That was 11 months and 29 days ago and the family was miserable. Angela and Teddy were devastated to come home and find out that their beloved older brother had left for Operation Banner without a proper goodbye or a guarantee he would ever come back. Eleven-year-old Angela had taken on her mother's spunk and determination and quickly (though sadly) assumed her role as eldest sibling and did everything she could to help her parents and her little brother. Teddy had taken Tim's leaving particularly hard, especially since he'd become rather attached to Shaylee, Tim's fiance.

It was understandable. All of the Turners adored Shaylee when Tim brought her home for dinner to meet them. Shaylee was a beautiful, young, Irish girl a year younger than Tim. Her parents sent her to England to study in 1968 when it looked like tensions in Northern Ireland might escalate into military action. In 1969, when British troops were sent up North, Tim was Shaylee's anchor. She'd wanted to leave school and return home to be with them, but they wouldn't allow it. Tim got her through her days, her studies, and her fears, and somewhere along the way, the two discovered they were madly in love with each other. When Tim first brought Shaylee home, Patrick even joked with a twinkle in his eye that it was fitting Tim found himself a girl from the Northern parts with a name like Shaylee given how much Tim had rolled his eyes when Patrick hinted he was likely to end up with a girl like his mother.

Everything was fine until Shaylee's older brother was killed in a riot.

Tim couldn't console her and the second she packed her bags, he made good on his decision to join the RAMC. Her family didn't care that he was enlisted for Britain, they only cared about a peaceful world for their children and that was what he hoped to help provide. He really thought his own family would be supportive, especially since his father had been in the RAMC himself, but everything had gone wrong and now none of them knew when they would see each other again.

Shelagh had been trying tirelessly to help Patrick and her children through their worries, and thankfully, Angela and Teddy were adjusting, but she still couldn't seem to reach Patrick. It would be exactly one year since Tim left the following day and Patrick was still as haunted as the day he'd screamed at his son.

At first, it was just the distance. He threw himself completely into his work and refused to talk about Tim. That, she could deal with. It wasn't ideal, but she'd gone through periods of distance and withdrawal with him before and she knew he would eventually open up to her and things would get better...or so she thought. Six months in, she smelled the alcohol on his breath for the first time. She'd never begrudge him a drink after a hard day, so she let it go.

Eight months in, she was falling asleep to the smell of whiskey at least three times a week and Angela was glaring at him over breakfast.

Nine months in, he was sleeping at the surgery half the time and Teddy was sneaking into her room in the middle of the night because he missed his daddy.

Ten months in, Sister Julienne called Shelagh into her office because she was concerned, but Shelagh couldn't face the idea of anyone finding out that they were falling apart, so she forced on a smile and lied through her teeth that Patrick was simply in need of a break and they would take one when she could find a locum. She actually did manage to find a locum who could cover for a week of leave, but Patrick refused to go. She was going to fight him, but his reasoning was that he couldn't stop working and take a break while Tim was putting his life on the line. It was the first time in so long that she could remember him saying Tim's name, and she refused to push that glimmer of progress.

Eleven months in, she broke down sobbing in Trixie's arms as she finally told someone about her husband's alcoholism. Trixie cried with her and they talked for hours about what the next step might be. It didn't occur to Shelagh until she said the sickness out loud that she didn't want to admit that Patrick had a problem. He'd never turned to drinking before, so she'd never considered it. Her worst fears when Tim left were that Patrick would pick up smoking again or drive himself into insanity. She never considered that the same addictive, obsessive personality that catered to his work and smoking habits could so easily translate into another vice.

It wasn't until the anniversary of that terrible day approached that she found the courage to confront him. One of the things Trixie told her was to not forget that she was hurting too. She'd spent so much time taking care of her family over the past year that she hadn't given herself time to hurt over Tim's absence or give into the fear that the reason they hadn't heard from him was that he was never coming home. She needed to talk about Tim and she needed her husband.

Shelagh expected an empty house when she returned home that afternoon, so she was more than surprised when Angela met her at the door.

"Ange?" Shelagh asked, confused since she expected her daughter at orchestra practice until just before dinner. The sight of Angela's clarinet on the side table confirmed the schedule she had in her head. At least Angela was far better at wind instruments than Tim...

"Dad picked us up." Angela said quietly.

"Us?" Shelagh asked as she hung up her bag.

"Teddy's outside." Angela clarified. "I told dad that Teddy was supposed to stay with the Mastersons tonight, but he said it was important we all be home." The edge in Angela's voice crushed something in Shelagh, but she wasn't wrong. After all they'd been through, the idea of Patrick wanting the family together and insisting upon them being home was more than hypocritical. Though, she thought, perhaps it meant he hadn't forgotten the significance of the date?

"Where's your father?" Shelagh asked. Angela paused, as though she could feel the impending fight between her parents, but eventually answered.

"In Tim's room." she sighed. "He said he'd be down for dinner. I can start it if you want?"

"No, dearest, that's alright." Shelagh assured her. "You've done so much over the past few months. Take a few moments for yourself. I'll start dinner in a little while."

Angela smiled and hugged her mother before darting off to her room. Shelagh relished the fleeting feeling of her daughter's arms and prayed that Angela's teenage aversion to affection wouldn't kick in too soon.

Walking the familiar path to Tim's room, Shelagh found her worry about confronting Patrick slip into a calm resolution. They weren't okay. They hadn't been okay for sometime, but now Patrick was sitting in his son's room and he'd stopped being so consumed by his eldest child that he'd taken the time to pick up his two youngest. He was trying and that was more than he'd even attempted in so long.

"Patrick?" her soft voice floated from the doorway and she knew he heard her by the way the stress in his face eased just a bit. Despite everything, they still had that effect on the other. There was no situation that wasn't made slightly better by the presence of the other, even in the midst of boiling anger and remembering that soothed Shelagh.

"Do you think he'll ever sleep in here again?" He asked. His voice was raspy and as Shelagh moved closer to sit beside him on the bed, she realized he didn't smell of whiskey. Real, true hope bloomed in her for the first time in months.

"I don't know." she admitted. She reached her hand out and gently brushed his, hoping he wouldn't pull away. When he didn't, she risked taking his hand firmly in her own and it was as though her entire body relaxed and healed when he squeezed back. "It's been a year. I had hoped we would've heard from him by now." she whispered.

"I can't help but think that I-" he paused, his body shook. "I...I can't, I'm too sober for this." He pulled his hand out of her grasp and turned for the door, but she stopped him by wrapping her arms around him from behind.

"No, you're not, Patrick." she promised as she held him tight, her body confirming her words. "You picked up Angela and Teddy and you came in here, you're trying so hard."

He broke in her arms and knelt down on the floor crying. She fell behind him and rocked him slowly with her embrace as she placed loving kisses on his shoulders.

"How can you hold me?" He asked, his voice breaking. "How can you still touch me after the hell I've put you through? God, I'm so sorry, Shelagh. I'm so sorry for everything."

Shelagh forced herself to breathe and gather her thoughts. She wanted to scream at him. She wanted to let loose all the anger and hurt that had piled up over the past year. She wanted to blame him for driving their son away. She wanted to curse him.

But she couldn't.

"Because I love you, Patrick." she breathed. "I never stopped loving you. I...I am so angry with so many things...and I'm furious with you, but...after all of this and...everything...I can't imagine losing you." Shelagh moved around so she could sit facing him. "We will get Tim back, Patrick, but right now, there are two other children downstairs who miss their father and I...I can't do this alone anymore."

They lost track of how long they held each other crying and murmuring words of loss, of love, of utter frustration.

Eventually, a soft knock in the doorway interrupted them.

"I'm sorry, mum," Angela apologized softly, averting her eyes from the sight of her parents showing that much emotion, "but it's seven and Teddy is hungry. Are you sure you don't want me to make dinner?"

Shelagh opened her mouth to answer, but Patrick beat her to it.

"No, Angel girl." Angela's eyes shot up at her dad's use of her pet name. "Tell Teddy to wait a minute. I think we could all benefit from fish and chips tonight. I'll be back in two ticks."

Angela's gaze still held months of fury and pain in it, but she allowed herself a small smile. "Could you also pick up some butterfly cakes?" she asked hopefully.

"I thought you were 'too old for butterfly cakes'?" Patrick asked. Shelagh and Angela caught each other's eye at the glimmer of cheek in his tone. They hadn't realized how much they'd missed it.

"I just suddenly had a craving." Angela replied with tears brimming. "And besides, I'm not as old as you and you like them." she quickly covered her own emotion with sarcasm - a trait Shelagh wasn't entirely pleased she'd picked up on, but at least Angela was smiling again.

"I think butterfly cakes would be a very appropriate choice." Shelagh remarked. Angela helped her parents up off her brother's floor and she gave Patrick a lengthy hug before relinquishing him at the sound of her grumbling stomach.

The Turner girls watched him drive off.

"Mum, does this mean things are back to normal?" Angela asked hopefully.

"Not quite." Shelagh admitted. "Your father once said, 'time isn't always a healer, but it can open doors'. I'd say we opened one tonight."

"I hope so." Angela replied. "I missed dad."

"I missed him too, Ange." Shelagh pulled Angela into her arms and they both laughed when Teddy ran careening into them to join the hug moments later.

Yes, they had definitely made a start.

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48 down, TWO TO GO! Hope you enjoy!


	49. You're So Bloody Hot

**Prompt 49:** "You're so bloody (fucking) hot when you're mad."

 **Summary:** Patrick quickly realizes that an angry Shelagh is easily turned into an aroused Shelagh early on in their marriage and decides to test his theory. M-RATED. SMUTTY SMUT SMUT. BE WARNED. This takes place post-them discovering the infertility, so Shelagh is on edge and being overly protective of TimTim.

 **A/N:** Taking liberties with the prompt because I just can't imagine a version of 1950s/60s Turnadette that curses. Also, I'm so sorry! It's been 84 years, but Prompts is back!

 **Disclaimer:** I own nothing.

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He probably should've been paying more attention to Mrs. Wilbury, but it was the third day in a row the woman had come into the surgery to try and convince him that her leg was broken (when he'd told her repeatedly it wasn't), and truthfully, even if she'd been bleeding out on his office floor, he wasn't sure he'd be focused enough to care. No, his mind was still whirling with the events of the previous night. If he let his vision blur just a bit and listened inside his head, he could still see Shelagh's tangled hair, and hear her moaning, and feel the sting of her nails in his back - the scabs of which he knew were still angry and red beneath the professional skin of his lab coat. He had no idea. He'd had absolutely no idea his wife had that in her, but he had an idea of what triggered it and the mere inkling that he could spark that untamed passion in her for a second time was completely shutting down his ability to do his job.

He'd started the day out much stronger. He'd done an admirable job of controlling his wandering mind for the better part of the morning. Then, just before lunch, the combination of Shelagh coming into his office followed by Fred giving him a firm slap on the back where the evidence of their activities lay proved just a bit too much. He'd winced as Fred left and apparently Shelagh had put two and two together because she blushed into the roots of her hair, gave him a quick peck on the cheek, and scurried home.

That was hours ago and he was losing his mind.

"Are you listening to me, Doctor?" Mrs. Wilbury's wheezing high-pitched voice cut through his day-dreams.

"Yes, of course, Mrs. Wilbury, but as I said yesterday and the day before that, the leg isn't broken. If anything, you have a pulled muscle which will heal itself if you lie down and stop walking on it to come into the surgery." he explained, exasperated and desperate to get his last patient of the day out of his hair.

"Well, I never." She huffed and got herself up out of the chair with far more speed and ability than anyone with so much as a fracture would have had.

"Good evening, Mrs. Wilbury." he sighed. She did not return the nicety, but as the door to his surgery closed, Patrick couldn't have cared less. He threw his bag together and hurried out the door with a quick goodbye to his secretary and mumbled instructions to lock up after him.

"Shelagh, I'm home early!" He called out eagerly. His heart rate sped up as he heard footsteps rounding the corner, but instead of his wife, he was met with his son's unimpressed gaze.

"Mum's in the kitchen, but I'm here too, you know…" Timothy reminded him as he studied his father for an explanation for his odd behavior.

"Right, sorry, hello Timothy." Patrick stammered as he forced his hormones back under control. What was thinking? He needed to come up with an actual plan. Preferably one that involved Timothy being far, far away. If he was right about the previous night, Shelagh's breaking point happened somewhere in the middle of their argument about him throwing his work clothes on the floor. Somehow, she'd gone from telling him to get his pants off the floor to putting them there herself in a split second and lord, he needed to figure out how. His best guess at the moment was that since Shelagh didn't deal well with anger, she needed an outlet for it, and hey, if that outlet happened to be pushing him onto their bed, who was he to complain?

He needed to annoy her to test his theory, but… Just in case he was wrong and all he succeeded in was making Shelagh boiling mad, it was best Timothy was out of the house...or in case he was right...really either outcome of his experiment would be best without his son there as a witness.

"Is your schoolwork done?" Patrick asked innocently.

"Dad, you know it is." Timothy sassed. "I'm not allowed to do anything else." Timothy gestured down to his calipers. His attitude needed checking, but he had a point. Maybe a night at Jack's would do them all some good.

"Well, with a little less cheek, maybe you'll be allowed out tonight." Patrick suggested. Timothy's face lit up.

"Really?" he asked hopefully.

"Well, I was thinking maybe you might like to have dinner and stay over with Jack tonight since you're so keen on-"

"Yes please!" Timothy exclaimed.

"But not if you interrupt." Patrick countered. Timothy clamped his mouth shut, but his excitement beamed through his eyes. "Let me call the Smiths, go pack a bag." Patrick acquiesced with a smile. This was too easy.

The Smiths were delighted to take Timothy, especially since he hadn't been over in so long, and before Patrick knew it, the boy was out the door with Jack (dutifully sent to pick him up) and he and Shelagh were alone.

" _Oh no."_ Patrick thought. " _I forgot to tell Shelagh about Tim."_ A wave of panic washed over him. His plan didn't include him doing something actually wrong and her not speaking to him for the rest of the night. They'd just had a discussion about her being as much of Timothy's mother as Marianne and now he'd gone and made a parenting decision without her. On the other hand, maybe this would end blissfully and he'd have nothing to worry about?

"Patrick, Timothy dinner's ready!" Shelagh called out. He wasn't sure why he stayed quiet. It was just prolonging the inevitable. Sure enough, he heard her leave the kitchen and head into the hallway. "Patrick, what are you still doing out here? Where's Timothy?" Best to just bite the bullet.

"I, um, I said he could go to Jack's." Patrick said quietly, fingers fiddling nervously with the hem of his suit jacket.

"What?" Shelagh asked in disbelief. Patrick's heart sunk a bit. Her eye's held hurt as well as anger and that wasn't going to end well. "What were you thinking? How could you? He's not well enough yet!"

"He's not out playing cricket, Shelagh, he's just going to have a sleepover." He fought back. Well, he wanted an argument.

"And when were going to ask me?" she bit back. "Or were you even going to ask me before you sent him away?"

"I forgot." he replied lamely.

"You forgot?" she asked incredulously. "I was around the corner in the kitchen, Patrick, you didn't forget, you just assumed you knew what I would say, so you didn't ask."

Patrick felt the sting of irritation. This was really not how he wanted this evening to go.

"I made no such assumption, Shelagh. I just had other things on my mind." he muttered through a rapidly tensing jaw. Despite the risks of their spat turning into a full-blown yelling match, he couldn't deny that he was getting increasingly distracted by the way her voice was deepening and her breathing quickening. Both were symptoms of her frustration, but with where his thoughts had been all day…

"Like what?!" she nearly shrieked. Her voice only hit that pitch normally when she was coming apart beneath him and he snapped.

"Like this!" he shouted back before shoving her against the wall and kissing her with all the pent up frustration of his day. He felt her tense in response and he went to pull away in apology, but her arms quickly wrapped around him and pulled him tighter against her startled frame. His body hummed with relief and he felt the entire day melt away under the insistence of her lips as her hands pulled frantically at his dress shirt.

"Shelaaagh." he murmured against her mouth. "Upstairss?" he barely got the question out as her tongue pushed past his lips to find his and she pushed her pelvis against him, seeking friction she couldn't find in their current position.

"Mmm-mmmm." she shook her head, but refused to pull her lips from his skin and he groaned as her mouth trailed down inside of his shirt collar to find his pulse. She needed more, but she couldn't fathom letting go of him in order to get it and he knew it. Patrick tried to pull away, just to carry her upstairs, but her eyes flashed at the separation and before he knew what was happening, she was pulling him through the door to the sitting room and pushing him down on the couch. He fell backwards and barely had time to register where he was before Shelagh was straddling him and yanking at his tie.

"You're so bloody hot when you're mad." he growled. He moved quickly to match her pace and let himself give into his own urges. They'd been so careful with each other until the previous night and now it was as if they were truly free - as though all of the lingering stigma and worry about their relationship that might have been hanging over their heads was finally washed clean and they could give into their passion without hesitation. His hands moved to bury themselves in her now-unpinned tresses and he yanked her head back, groaning as she gasped and her neck thrust towards his waiting lips.

They'd never done this outside their bedroom before. In fact, he recalled Shelagh explicitly telling him she couldn't because she wouldn't be able to look at the room the same way, but apparently proper-Shelagh's rules didn't apply to angry-Shelagh. The certainly didn't apply to the Shelagh who was raking her nails up his thighs and pulling at the button of his trousers.

She finally pulled hard enough that the button came clean off and she nearly threw herself off him with the force of it. He caught her as she yelped and tossed her sideways onto the cushions.

"Christ, Shelagh, what's gotten into you?" He asked, voice heavy with awe and lust. She didn't have answer, or at least not one she wanted to break the mood to give.

"I'll fix it." she replied breathily, referring to the button, and she pulled him down on top of her. His weight fell against her and she cried out happily when she felt him hard and hot and wanting her. "Patrick...need you."

He sat up just enough to pull himself out of his pants, ruck up her skirt, and slide her panties aside before thrusting himself inside of her. "God yes." he choked out against the flushed, skin of her cheek. He'd been so desperately in need of whatever this was all day and based on her reactions, he could only imagine how distracted she'd been herself. He didn't think it was possible, but she felt more aroused around him that he could ever remember and she was practically whining as she strained her legs to drive her hips up again and again.

"More, please, Patrick, more." she panted. His arms were burning and his breath was short, but she could've asked him to leap to the moon in that voice and he would've done it. He was lost and drowning in her eyes, her sounds, her smell, and his hips pistoned faster, driven forward by the mad bubble of lust encasing their bodies. He felt her tense impossibly tightly around his throbbing length and she held onto him for dear life as she road out her orgasm, nails cutting new wounds next to day-old scabs under his vest. A dark part of his mind wanted his body littered with them and the thought sent him over the edge, his own fingers bruising his release into her as he grabbed at her waist.

Their heavy breathing filled the room as they slowly came back to reality and he gathered her up onto his lap.

"Are you okay?" he asked gently. He was concerned when she didn't answer him. "Shelagh?"

"I'm sorry." she whispered. His brow furrowed. That was glorious and that last thing she should be was sorry.

"Darling what on earth are you sorry for?" he asked.

"I'm so embarrassed." she mumbled into his chest. "I didn't mean to."

"Oh, Shelagh, there's nothing to be embarrassed about." he assured. They'd been so tired the other night that he hadn't noticed her feeling unsure about her behavior, but it made sense that she would. She loved being with him, but he knew she still struggled with her desires and giving into any sense of primalness must've rattled her considerably. "I really like it when you do that."

"You do?" she asked hesitantly.

"I think you could tell I did." he teased. She blushed, but smiled and kissed him lovingly. "You know, you don't have to be angry for us to be together like that."

"I didn't know I was capable of acting like that." she admitted. "And I don't want to be angry with you, Patrick, not ever. Maybe that's why it happened?"

"Perhaps." he agreed. "We can keep exploring it together," he stroked her tangled hair and relished in the soft sigh she gave against his shoulder. "And I will never laugh at you or judge you for anything you try, not with me."

"I know." Shelagh replied earnestly. "I love you, Patrick."

"I love you too." he kissed the top of her head and the two sat peacefully for a few moments.

"We should eat dinner before it gets cold." she whispered after a while.

"We should." he agreed, then paused. "I'm sorry there's going to be extra." he added guiltily.

"It's alright." she forgave. "You can wash up after to make it up to me."

"You sure you wouldn't prefer another method of making up?" he grinned as he caressed her thigh.

"Maybe later." she blushed before hurrying away to the kitchen. She couldn't bear to forget herself again quite so soon, but the night was still young.

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49 down, JUST ONE TO GO! Hope you enjoy!


	50. Well, Yell, Scream, Say Something

**Prompt 50:** "Well. Yell, scream, say something. Anything"

 **Summary:** Patrick, Tim, Angela, and Teddy have plans for Mother's day, but with that group, how could anything go according to plan? Ending the series with more of a Turner clan than Turnadette feel, but it felt right.

 **A/N:** I. MADE. IT. NUMBER. 50. Wow. I can't believe we're here. This is the longest project I've ever committed to and I'm so happy I was able to see it through! Thank you so incredibly much to all of my faithful readers. You've made writing this saga so much fun and your enthusiasm has been so moving and inspiring. I don't know what my next project will be but I can only hope it will be as rewarding! From the bottom of my heart, thank you.

 **A/N 2:** The whole baby in a cooking pot thing was apparently a thing in my family. There are pictures of myself and my mother as babies in cooking pots. I have no idea why.

 **Disclaimer:** I own nothing.

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"Pinks!" Angela exclaimed excitedly as she emptied a brand new box of pink wafers onto the breakfast tray Tim was preparing.

"Ange, no!" Tim admonished. He moved his egg pan off the burner and quickly picked the biscuits off the tray, sighing when they left piles of crumbs from Angela's enthusiastic hands. "If you don't listen, then you can't help."

"Mummy likes Pinks." Angela argued with a pout. Tim rolled his eyes and turned back around to focus on the eggs he was trying to make. Angela took the opportunity to take back her wafers and start crushing them into Shelagh's empty tea-cup-to-be, fascinated by the flaky pink dust. Tim whipped around at the crunching sound.

"Angela, stop it!" he snapped as he ripped the tray away from her.

"Timmy, give't back!" Angela shrieked. She scrambled to grab the tray and fell off her chair. It wasn't a far drop, but it was far enough that she wasn't going to take it lying down. "Daddy!" Angela cried out and Tim swore under his breath as he heard Patrick hurry down the stairs.

"What on earth is going on in here? You'll wake her up with all this noise." Patrick harshly whispered. Teddy stirred in his arms and looked around, confused at being in another room so quickly. Patrick quickly spotted Angela on the floor in tears. "Angela, what happened?" Instead of answering, she raised her arms up for him to cuddle her. He glanced at Teddy, who was currently occupying his embrace. "Tim, would you mind?"

"Dad, I'll never get breakfast done if I keep being interrupted." Tim argued, aggressively moving his spatula through the eggs.

"I knew this was a terrible idea." Patrick mumbled to himself before turning to Angela. "One moment, sweetheart, let me get Teddy settled."

"No, Daddy! No more Teddy!" Angela cried. Patrick sighed and glared at Tim who was determinedly ignoring the morning plights of his family.

"Okay, Angel girl, um," Patrick looked around and grabbed their largest pot from where it was drying on the counter from the previous night. "Here you go, son, nice and snug." Tim turned around at that.

"Dad, you can't put him in there." Tim stated with wide eyes.

"Why not? Your mum and I did it to you all the time and you turned out just fine." Patrick countered irritably. Teddy babbled happily in the pot, completely oblivious to his brother's concern or his sister's crying. "Now, then, young madam, what happened to you?" Patrick picked Angela up and sat her on the counter. She immediately cuddled into his chest and he smiled at how like her mother she was in ways she would never know.

"Timmy...won't...let...me...help…" Angela stuttered through her tears.

"Tim…" Patrick sighed disapprovingly. Tim was quick to jump to his own defense though.

"She wasn't helping!" he explained, his spatula getting more and more aggressive.

"Nu-uh!" Angela argued back, her feistiness returning after her comforting snuggle.

"She was putting her wafers in everything, Dad." Tim groaned. "She was ruining it."

"Your mother _likes_ pink wafers, Tim." Patrick countered. "I'm sure she wouldn't have minded a couple."

"See, mummy likes Pinks!" Angela happily agreed with Patrick and Teddy let out a happy wail of approval. Tim let out a grunt of frustration.

"She can have wafers any day." he insisted. "It's her first Mother's Day with Teddy, I just want it to be nice." Patrick smiled wryly. It was harder to discipline the smaller Turners when they were all acting with good intentions.

"It will be nice, Tim." Patrick assured him. "If nothing else, she'll appreciate the thought."

"No offence, Dad," Tim laughed, "but I'd rather leave her with more than the thought, especially given how last year's Mother's Day turned out." Patrick let his memory wander back to his own failed breakfast in bed of the previous year and how he'd had to take them all out for breakfast because he'd burnt Shelagh's favorite pan beyond all hope of repair. He winced.

"Yes, that's probably for the best." he agreed. "I take it I'm not allowed to help, then?" Patrick asked knowingly.

"Not a chance." Tim refused. "Do you think you could just get the pancake ingredients out? I don't think you can burn them just by touching them…"

"Watch it…" Patrick warned, but his grin gave away his amusement and Tim laughed. "Angela, why don't you help me over here while Tim finishes up the eggs, okay?"

Angela nodded excitedly and Patrick helped her off the counter so they could hurry to the pantry. As Patrick put ingredients into Angela's eager arms, a crash echoed from the kitchen and all Patrick heard was Tim yelling "Teddy!" He ran as fast as he could to his sons and panic quickly turned to relief as he saw Teddy out of the pot, but safe and sound. That was more than he could say for Tim's plate of perfect eggs, which now lay shattered on the floor next to the pot that had rolled off the counter.

"Oh no, Teddy, what happened?" Patrick chuckled. Teddy smiled and reached out for him and Patrick gladly picked him up off the counter. Tim, meanwhile, was fuming.

"What happened?" Tim asked, horrified. "Dad, I have to start all over again!"

"Tim, it's just eggs, it's really alright." Patrick tried to convince him.

"No it's not. Just because you can't cook doesn't mean the rest of us should fail at it." he sassed.

"Timothy, please." Patrick sighed. He really didn't want to start another argument. The part of him that wanted to allow Shelagh a lie-in that morning was quickly diminishing. How on earth did she handle all three of them at once? "Look, Shelagh is probably still asleep or she would have come downstairs. Why don't we just-"

"Pancakes!" Angela shrieked with glee. Patrick and Tim turned around and stared in horror. Angela had gotten hold of the pot on the floor and attempted to make her own pancake mix, but had ended up with only a few specks of flour in the pot. The rest of her eggs, oil, flour, and sugar covered her from head to toe and were slowly spreading out into a massive puddle of sticky mess. "Oops" she shrugged.

"Patrick, Timothy?" Shelagh's voice floated from upstairs and the two elder Turner men looked at each other in panic.

"This is your fault!" Tim whispered harshly.

"I'm holding Teddy." Patrick argued. "I didn't do anything." They knew they didn't have time to clean up the entire mess, but they at least had to hide Angela. Tim hurried to pick her up, but slipped in the sea of eggs and oil and tumbled onto the kitchen floor, clothes wet with the ingredients of his failed present.

"Ange, come here, we have to get out of the-"

"What on earth is going on in here?"

Patrick, Tim, Angela, and Teddy all turned towards Shelagh, frozen with guilt. Shelagh glanced around her previously pristine kitchen and her jaw dropped.

Patrick was the first to break the silence.

"Well. Yell, scream, say something. Anything." he urged with utter defeat. He felt his shoulders tense in preparation for an onslaught of righteous anger, but instead, he was met with laughter. "Shelagh?"

"Oh Patrick," she shook her head as she tried to get herself under control, "I would've thought you all learned your lesson last year." He looked at her sheepishly, but his heart warmed knowing she appreciated this year's attempt all the same.

"Apparently not." he chuckled. "What do you say, meet at the car in 30 minutes?"

"Maybe we should meet at the restaurant next year." Tim grumbled as he hurried upstairs to shower.

Angela shuffled over to her parents and Teddy.

"Oh no, Angel girl." Shelagh sighed with a smile. "I think you could use a good scrub as well before we head out, what do you say?"

"Happy mummy's day, mummy." Angela hugged her sticky body tight to Shelagh's legs and Shelagh bent down to hug back.

"You know you'll need a shower as well, now?" Patrick indicated as Shelagh was slowly covered in her fair share of almost-batter.

"Well, maybe you can wash my back before you wash my kitchen?" Shelagh winked at him before carrying Angela upstairs.

Patrick swallowed. Maybe the morning wasn't a total loss after all.

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50 down...ZERO TO GO! Thank you so much for reading! And congrats on making it to the end of this saga, lol.


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